The Faun

Lost again
in the pillow of your thighs
found and fed
your blood and flesh become
a beggar's wine and bread
Lost in the cadence of your breasts
your skirt
my lust
and your whirlpooled decadence

Your godiva fingertips
and blood red nails
my stupid manlyhood
and drunk debaucheries
I'm anything but numb
a prisoner of your lips 
like an army of ants
bitting me in little pieces 
carried in mortuary caravan
to the cemetery of my soul
my grave
my via crucis
my heaven

I sin like a wild horse
running free in the open prairie
like a dolphin diving
to the deepest darkest oceans of you
lonely bat, stranded in the desert 
I drown on the blood your neck offers
I resuscitate
I fall orphan to fate
I become enslaved
and the bull becomes Minotaur
as your legs become labyrinth
with a pen instead of a flute
and a poem instead of a song
lost in feminine famine 
I am the faun.

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