These skies were never so starless
Here I am. Drip-drop embrace, suckled caress
There was not crime, we did not commit
For I am full of yesterdays you would never admit.

Hell has no fury like a woman’s scorn
to trip and snap like dust, satiated and worn
and then there were chords, but never trembled near
Cold—is that what the bare organs fear?

Intelligence, could you beg me? Horns or Halos?
Drug me up and lay me down; only God knows!
Skin sings like ripped fabric at the strum of teeth
As tradition handed thee thy honor: thy toothpick and sheath

My battle cry may squirm into your faith
Aquinas, Benedict, Apologetics of Grace
Hurry, Hurry the matriculation will not start!
No need to say goodbye, as entrails and gems part.