Lustful Poem by GRANT FRASER

A raging hunger
is how I like to think of it,

For when it comes,
it's no holds barred,

I can't control the world
for it,

Like my breast filling
up with woe,
in a great big whirling
basin,

And the dragons in my
blood chasing mad fire,

Or some drowning innocent,
along a bay of hot frothy milk,

Or waiting for that secret sly
piranha of smell to attack,
the senses,

Hovering before a very small
particle or crevice,

Of what is even private
beyond the self,

Somewhere deep in there,
the molecule implores,

Like a strange new flower,

And the scent naked,
opens up like a big moist door,

leading out...
into a mind of somewhere else