Mere Remorse

I think that I shall write a poem
to read to my lady when she comes home
for she is resplendent and oh so bright
that lately I don't sleep at night

Yes, and her skin is a looking glass
through which I watch a Holy Mass
While from within me, werewolves bay
from the moonlit night til the sun soaked day

I come to my senses and stay on-task
swallowing gin from a golden flask
as I take her shoes out of the closet
to wash them neath a silver faucet

And if she, to me, would only ask
why I would wear an iron mask
She could cast my soul away
and I myself would have no say

We draw deep breaths in the perfumed grass
as if it were nitrous oxide gas
til our spinning heads burst into light
a luminous, heavenly ghastly white

Seizures, mouths, and spewing foam
she plays Nero to my Rome