Untitled

With balance and turgid rhythm
we wash into wide eyed courtyard attack.
Deludions of peace was the habitual prescription.
Sermon of capricious lust.
She didn't cry out, much
when she was hit with the rod.
Take another drunken swig-
What do I care
I'll only be useful to me for a little while longer.

Naive we come- wasted we go.