All the penises of this world
can’t make up for the fact that I’m dead

(however happy they seem to help
however willingly they guide and give assistance)

Rotten body
three feet under
spoiled soul
a lifetime above

Since Love slowly lifted the veil that covered my face for ages and ages
dust fell down my arms and legs like cocaine flakes
Poked tiny holes on my retina and showed me her naked grief, headless stature
The despair of emptiness, the roar that exploded my eardrums
a cry of true acute accuracy, the insight

I’ve slowly, unwillingly begun to grasp the significance of this wisdom;
Love is headless;
no eyes, no mouth, no ears, no nose
whatever I saw wasn’t there
whatever I herd wasn’t said
what I smelled wasn’t love juices but unwashed underwear

Headless Mistress
Headless Huntress

I mistook the agony for euphoria
and;

All the penises of this world
can’t revive my illusion