The Cold Tongue. . .The cold tongue of rejection be my lover.
Loneliness, my unlit room of sanction--
Here I know her like sister or brother
And here, she comes to give me a sort of thanks. . .
A young sister so obedient to
Me; she lets me cradle her cooling corpse
When all else look away, there she is so
Terrifying in her summer's dress.
Cold eyes lock with mine as to subdue me.
She presses her cold bosom to my chest--
Loves me in the dark of my history
She entices me to her infant breasts
And alas when I try to pull away,
To her I find my way at the end of days.