I suffer an inordinate and irrational phobia of answering the phone, calling another, maintaining the loose conversation across the invisible wire. The necessity caused by duty and obligation was a single factor. Now it is a physical pain. I'm feverish, again, with pain and only liquids to sate my palette. Caring for plants is good for your soul.
The girl awaits
away from her intrinsically intricate
and effeminate room
where there lies,
upon her bed,
a hybrid, half-breed:
man and tiger,
not so clear cut as alike
The Centaur.
He is bronzed, like the beturbaned sultan;
an animal of the Orient,
but in place of their shared
full toothed and lascivious grin
awaiting the intercourse-
the meal on legs to enter the harem-
there resides a frown
for the fear he creates with bite from fang.
As like a man of thought he ponders
his place;
his true entrapment,
his skin is a cage.
For he wants not her heart
but her hand
and to receive only her love...
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