Hymn of a dying cynic

 Sometimes I like to write s*#$&@ poetry too.

Hymn of a dying cynic

Fiery intoxication of the best and worst kind.
I feel you seeking me
your eyes search for answers
underneath the surface.
I have become a splinter
lurking within the shadows of your thoughts
where you decorate my image with the thirst of desire.
I make you suffer a bittersweet agony
you hope to deny.
But I don't understand this reasoning
I say, if you feel it
let love intoxicate,
suffer its feverish chills
let it infect every last inch of your being
soak its venom right into your soul
let it kill you
and bring you back to life
turn life into poetry.
Your love has already begun to saturate my veins
she inspires the muses and awakens my soul
My once empty canvases
that lay like carcasses on the bedroom floor
have sprung to life
filled with vibrating colors and music.
Sweet love, take me further
push me off this cliff and see me fall
watch my body twist in sweet agony.
Let me house you in the temple of my loins
cradle your insecurities
wrap you in the cloak of my love!
Share this agony with me
so in turn we can both be captives of the same affliction.

October 7, 2010 © Mariana Moscoso