Personal (Litanies of Balneum-Marie)
First, you will be strangled with unstomachable satire. Then, hung with the noose of hyperbole. You will try to reason with how much I love things, and with how much affection I give. I drink fully from the glass. You should, too. You will grow irritated with my insistence on a deeper meaning in all inexplicable things, for you are an atheist. Our lips are touching; that is all that should matter. You will fail to understand how I exist in art, and how it exists in me; how our union is perfect but imperfect, always full of the satisfaction of progress; I will be a mouthful, a hairful, a handful I will know our tragic future, but will love you regardless. That will be the worst of all. I will know dreams you have dreamed forever, and you will hate me for bringing you to comprehension. You will find my body repulsive, decaying into blackness, corrupting and strangling your pristine male purity. You will look twice within you, and find you decaying, too; We will grow red w...