MUSE OF LUST

Play me this symphony
till I am buried in the deep of its harmony
No sweetie, not classical, or no, not pop
not even blue, but let the stereo rock it
till I regain your lost thrust
let its melodies sooth our emotion
till I traced my path to this island in between
your thighs
I your conductor, you my soloist
sing out those melodies in with the moanings
of thy youth
and let it echo till my muscled leg be engulfed
in its youthful green
for then I shall trace the contours on these parts making up the orchestra
till I am able to dictate the time signature of each thrust
then shall entrust this key signature in the triad of your wet valley
till the moon be fatigued to embrace her cold skies
I shall lend you the tune, and you will, if you please
increase the tempo
but prithee let's maintain this timing
till I bleed my youthful green into the embrace of thy sockets
Let this muse-sick play on, till we be lost in lust
but my maiden, don't let me belost in this cake leading to this wet valley
For many a boy has lost his dreams
while treading this wet path…