More Colours (xxvii)
prithee,
love, but i do
yearn for thy
mouth to be
outright
unreservedly upon mine own. further
to that, with fiery desire, to
have your heart o’er mine would send it
ricocheting within until the very
organs housed inside my feverish
carapace were bruised and broiled like mutton, a stew-
kettle of which would sear an entire colony inside out with a rabid covetous thirst.
