poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

I bit a woman's hand today. Her eyes so bright, intense. Deliciously shy. It was but a doleful display of cindery lust, of youth now dry. I have become but a shadow of my former self, an eidolon, devoid of ardour, of callow and juvenile passion. Oh, to lose the fire! The excitement of conquest and the warmth of desire! Heed my exhortations, ye of tender ages! Escape civility and all notions of restraint. These are but tenebrous cages the heart's fires to frustrate, the spirit's brilliance etiolate. [03/19/03]
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
All Rights Reserved
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