Hear the syrup drip
from your tongue
till I'm finger-licking sick
of your sweet and sour
Still I'm glued to your glaze your gaze
between wild-eyed and doe-eyed
My eyes are dead with it now
Must you tear at bits I'd held together
till they fall at your feet
or hang from your teeth
till I'm raw?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sweetly sick after a beasly treat.10