I once loved your emphatic nature
but now I am not so sure…
Perhaps it is your false demure
or better yet your tessiture
(the sound of a siren –
I hope to one day drown).
We once made love in the prelature,
BREAKING the bounds of culture
BREAKING free from all the pressure
but it seems your ONLY goal is pleasure.
your love is fast and premature
expedited like your naked exposure
this is your accelerated-adventure
do not stop just because of this failure!
We simply were not made to endure.
The trials and tribulations of this [enclosure].
So let us toast just so we may ensure.
That this remains the final fissure.
I stand, once again, a lonely figure…
ahead of me though, a quite bright future.
Finally free from any single indenture
or even some form of ligature
(in search of someone who might –
BREAK me free from myself).
