Wednesday, August 13, 2008


Verse from 'The Tower Room',
by Lord David

This one night as I lay awake,
brain steeping in boiling plans
for world domination,
breathing slow fire and
listening to the wild
drums of my heart,
I would cool the fever
on the dry skin of my palms
against your honeyed flesh.
No shared secret spoken here,
or rending sex
of inhuman passion
could possibly be antidote
to this poisonous void.
Only your still form
and cool fine hair
in which to bury
my galloping thoughts,
might arrest this
vagabond caravan
of gypsy night.
It does not matter
if you know who
I will ever be,
as long as your
cool contagious sleep
bleeds me out into dream,
watching the movement
of your visioned eyelids
hypnotic potion cure.
This one night
I would give you
my last canister
of pure milk chocolate
and maybe some of
my last beer
to sleep beside your beauty.

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