Workshop (For Camille & Friends)

My eyes are the sun’s
spitting fire
My mouth is Venus’s
flicking traps
My fangs are the bat’s
dripping blood
I am the beast in the garden
I am the raw wind that gets to the bone:
But you just laugh.
You bare your soft green hearts
& I poke them with my hands
You dare not wince
at a pain that burns –
I, emperor of ice cream,
can only sneer, then sigh:
There will be no execution tonight
I am not God
I am just an ordinary bloke.
Our truth is the blessed fool’s
You can always have yours
I’ll dream my paramour’s.

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