Pristine? What does that mean?
The rumor of hell for this sin is dim,
Bland as the bark of a deaf, meaty nun.
This crime, this vice makes vibration thunder.
The salty steam swells from me
like a skirt above a subway grate.
Oh you brutish itch, your teasing turns me into scarlet fever.
Oils the image of Adonis, of Adam, of Valentino
with urgent sweat. Oh, I'm in a tizzy.
Sweetling, all evening I've been lit on and off. On and off.
My patience growing thinner than a playboy's grope.
The thought of you irks me the way the world worries God.
My wimpy, tiny, little heart has become explosive.
[?], inspired by roses, by embraces of angels.
My pristine self is melting,
My old whore halo glowing bright as nirvana.