No editor.
Hang over me the drapeOf superfluous HorrorAside Nocturnal trappingWallow in my ArtCrying and dyingMy sexual ecstacyThe crimson streamThat flows from youMagnificent, Supine,Red heaven gapes at meDragged across putrid groundMother scorns my gloveA vile red heapI gorge my selfish dreamPolite garden partyIf only they knewLick the eyesTo make them shinePeel the peachCold with timeThe weight of fantasyThat is not even mineSmell her woundsRich more than wineThe crimson streamThat flows from you.
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