Monday, November 24, 2008


by Masque

Night spills its ink across

Your body and beckons me

Carve my identity into yours.

Black fingers shadow their paths

On pale skin, seducing

Me; pleading with me to follow.

In this dark space, beyond all thought

Of right or wrong, there is a still

Lake —pain and indulgence— its glossy surface

Undisturbed; unrelenting.

I’ll meet you there.

I will lead you under, to drown

In the beauty of this iniquity

Until all light and dark disperse

Into this simple elixir of desire.


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