Luxúria/Demonic… a Butterfly lost amongst the Candle-Flame Moths  

That ‘Ache’
is like
trying to scramble
up an Avalanche,
backwards
… nothing… sates.
I’m exhausted
by mere
coincidence,
and accidental,
fleeting,
hallway-manoeuvers.
Digging a Well
deeper…
from one unmoral
Prison Cell
to another right
below it…
with a fucking
cocaine spoon!
A thigh-breadth
away
from Climax
… retreat…
and fight-off
the coming Dawn,
breathlessly,
and ferociously.
Passionate
conveyor belt
of ‘Grind’
… and no
permanent ‘Goodbye’
… the Unsavable
savours
a Banquet, unending.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer, who’s currently up to his elbows in Magic, and long may it remain this way. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.