Lucifer. Yir… Tryst Poem by Sebastian Priotese

Cohen knows squat about
Depth, I assure you.
A kiss is as deep as the
Nethermost circle
Of hell.
Lucifer turns in palls
Like a drill.
The angel knocks at the
Window with small
Beautiful fingertips…
"Please go. I've spent so much
Time creating a hell that can
Express at least a fragment
Of my pain, don't blow
My plan to pieces…
Please, let me sleep,
Let me crash in unconsciousness
Without seeing you,
The last of the world's wonders…"
And who would have thought
That Lucifer would hide so fiercely
The monumental secret that he pined
For Paradise? The angel - no,
Maybe not even himself. How many beasts
Dream of ceasing to be beasts.
"I suffer here the torture of the beautiful,
Amidst the lava's screams and shattered souls.
It's beauty's fault that I'm an animal…
Please, let me sleep…"

But the angel does not move,
Quenching its thirst with his contortions
And blows kisses his way.
"And I am here! - and now! - both a place
And a man. The place where lovers
Disintegrate against the rocks
Together with their boats - the place where
Even today wind will not breathe
So as not to cover the images of their own faces
With hair… Closer… Closer…
Tryst… Very tryst… both as place and man,
Both mute as the stones on the
Bottom of your kiss' hell.
"I stagnate watching my own ruination
And I can do nothing to stop myself
From creating this last opus of mine -
To reduce myself to ultimate neutrality.
You sit on the other side of the window
And beg me not to leave you alone..."
Lucifer, please don't leave me alone.
"But you're an angel, kid,
And you remind me how privileged
It is to be so.
And I will never leave you alone,
Just let me sleep, I implore you,
At least one time a week."