the sometime winter skies are filled with dying hate
for those half-when august moons that fill the night
and the moon looks down on me, her eye shining
brightly in the not-so-morning mist, penetrating
deep into my soul and passing through, untouched
by the blemish of evil which therein resides
and Death, that wicked whore who gives such
wonderful fucks in the starlight, dances freely
through the snow, so pale and white and naked
and beautiful, and She turns to me and whispers
into my ear how much She hates me and then
with eye to throat and tongue to chest she
kisses me and sends through me such waves of
meloncholy pleasure and I ponder ever so
briefly and for all eternity what it would feel like
to be embraced by those slender arms which
now threaten to hold me tight and choke away
my pain and so I return Her kiss and let Her
smoothness wash away my insanity and then I see
this moonlight again, shining off Her perfect face
and reflecting off Her pure black eyes whose
inky depths engulf my soul and pull me in
and seduce me softly into waning sleep
and I tremble inside her beautiful arms
and wonder at this life and Death
holds me tight against her
breasts, and gives me
one last fuck in the
moonlight and
I slowly
die

09/23/2001

Posted on 09/23/2001
Copyright © 2025 Gary Hoffmann