Alfred darling, please make me over,
paint me pale pink and grey, a ghost reborn
in neon fogs of clover.
There’s no need to mourn
my breathing image, lost in haze.
Our embrace will cause the room to whirl,
eyes in darkness will wear your gaze,
as all the flowers, ripe unfurl.
Try on my corset. Stoke your fire,
because I think we have the same infection,
born in streams of strange desire.
The world is trapped in my reflection.
__I’m dying for a sweet immersion
__in the swirling vortex of your perversion.