There is a thought for you,
Coming from my groin like a holy ray,
And this thought is this;
I whip you so long and hard that you have bloody lines,
Like markings on a foreign beast.
Then tenderly I forgive you,
(You shine knowingly).
My lips, my teeth, my tongue,
Clean each red groove.
Each furrow is a road; your body is my map,
The roads cross wildly,
I’m lovely lost in my travels.
