A shattering of my senses…
I cry out, instantly diluted
from a single point of roaring impression.
Self possessed.
Self dispossessed and self diluted.
The all seeing eye;
the agent of fragmentation.
I have nothing to say.
The lobes lack lube
The monk is dressed in cotton;
fit for my opium den.
The meek celibate injests himself whole.
Orgasm for the impaled.
The woman impales herself.
It's the only way she can get off.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem