I swear on a stack of Bibles to strain every nerve to prevent...
from teasing my senses,
yet not even hope
can disturb my offences.
to the gracing works of the soothing earth.
Exhausted by lust, with fingers crossed
I take the shine off the swoon of birth.
miles to go before I sleep.
My eyes water in the speedy air,
their vision is bleak and sore.
Though these eyes said otherwise
the feeling's back for more.
Quiet, nearly gone.
I seem to catch my breath
once the vultures come.