Gorged on hope you forget your place. Desire
won’t save you. If you’re the stuff of dreams then
you’re a safe flame for those afraid of fire
… a vague vulgarity. Who’d ever sin
on your behalf? There is no Orpheus
for you to sing you out of hell. Your place
is to warn others that all the lewdness
in the world feels most often like disgrace
and woe. Smut won’t save you. All this is true,
but I still give thanks for smut. I praise those
who’ve praised me with their libidos; who’ve taught
me lust sublime and passion’s true virtue …
I love that, despite all my griefs and woes,
despite feeling so broken and distraught.
