Mephisto exists within my own heart
In the black-veined passages that
Disguise their means, in the rib-stashed
Furnace replete with incinerated flowers
I consume all who would trespass on this
Seething womb through the appropriation
Of false intimacies, all who bare the graceless
Articulations of the Sybarite, I will not not
Lie in your bed as upon a sacrificial altar
And you will know neither my flesh nor
My vision
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Do not place your hands, as if in clay, upon my
Soul. I will not be rendered misshapen under
Your artistic vanity. I have no use of your
Dead Sea dreams, the saline of a love-struck
Narcissus lost in his reflection as it rests
Upon my eyes, unseen. I have no use of
Smiles, silk-spun, that would ensnare,
Of words double-sided that adhere lips
And tongue to back-alley promises that
Can not endure the light of morning
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Only one whose intentions are sincere could
Unlock these wrought-iron doors and find heaven
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This is a bit older actually but its hard to write when you can’t see that well
mindlovemisery 