This dream and this devil –
   Seemingly singing.
The cut of these teeth
   Upon a round shape
Upon what’s mine
   Just a trance in itself.

All eyes turning to this –

A mile high in pleasurable trance.
   At the centre, I reach with my mouth
   To make a trophy
of this image.

More so, faster, all pleasure
   Now arise from kneeling
To a fresh ministry,
   To ‘Cream Kingdom’ –
To higher powers
   I commend my waist

upon Cavalry, martyred.

That certain chocolate
   Has the godly power of grace
Which first was ‘given us’ –
   Which now we taste
Knowing as long as it lasts,
   No other thing exists.

But still I cross myself


If chocolate was a tree,
   it would have great knowledge
and you would be Adam

            and I would be Eve.

Leave a comment