Don't stretch your arms
like the branches
bearing no fruits,
the branches
of fruitless pursuits,
the branches of relentless need,
the branches
of lengthening greed
When
your lust like rivers
quivers
in the curvatures of night
as the lock of your dark heir
and whispers
through its curls and twirls,
on the glaze of water flaming in flair,
from the strokes of breezing airs,
be aware!
do not snare
your hopes
in the mirage of a salacious saturation
from the trough of a porous thirst
that no matter how you drink
the thirst is always there,
the alluring of a luscious luteous pear
looking so lush and fair,
where twinkles and blinks
in distance when you peer,
but as soon as you're near
would
right in your hand
disappear.
