Misanthropic Fate
Black Howling
A lover hung on her death row I was hooked on her disease Highly strung like Cupid's bow Whose arrows hungered meat And the blinding flare of passion In the shade of narrow streets Where their poison never rationed All the tips they left in me Two tracks Bric-a-brac Something passed between us Like a bad crack Upward-lit I'd met another kind...