Moon Burn

The irradiant smile
leaves wanton women blemished
And torn, like new age rape
of the senses.
The assault...tender and
reminiscent of something
so precious
so impervious to viciousness
That I'd claw out my eyes
in rapture
If my hands weren't bound
beneath me.

Hushed and cloaked in a whisper
To speak of ritualistic killings,
of death and threats
And the things that make you sweat
in secret places
Things that make more sense
by moonlight and motions
of erasing the word
...That one word...
That hangs on the lips
with precautions and pain.

Would it be wise to tempt
and by tempting, undoing,
the restrictions of dreams
and other brilliant, elegant things
that iron wrought will
and the thrill make wicked?
What if it really means nothing?
And by nothing, n-o-t-h-i-n-g
We find the absolution
The ulimate resolution
That could only bring
evolution and doubt.