“Oh, to have one’s cake
                                                            and be eaten, too!”

                    Hell-for-leather his thighs straddle
what light condemns, this li(f)e blackened
     by sighs heaven sends down, victims
     of prayer opened to bear tonight
     what’s not spoken—to hear broken
     scrolls read, unsealed pleas god ignored.

                    Stroking tongues blind to touch, ignored
organs one grinds too hard (broken
     under his hand’s force) are tonight
     restored, those red c(h)ords words straddle
     perform what men should not—victims
     chosen from them who walk blackened

     paths past demons, men whose blackened
     thoughts bend desire to whims victims
     ought not provoke, yet he straddles
     a mouth poets wear out—ignored
     souls whose attempts at love tonight
     will tear virgin holes, hym(e)ns broken

     until they sing of fasts broken,
     eating ass thick as his tonight
     because (past its prime) flesh ignored
     ripens to taste of what blackened
     fragrance priests’ hands grasp for, straddle
     over their lips, and lick—victims

     who are willing to be victims
     still need belief when they straddle
     necks they strangle, weak wills blackened
     by this angel’s wings once broken—
     he whose beating off leaves ignored
     train wrecks seeking come’s warmth tonight.

                    Someone else might meet him tonight,
sweating to press to their ignored
     heartache his brand of kiss—broken
     lovers who tryst with him victims
     before they wrest from his blackened
     offer what it costs to straddle

     them, its winking eye a broken
     sort of omen—a sign victims’
     minds should open before s(tr)addling.