Lord Jurgen

    bless
me +
        



with
lips
that
weep
blue
tea
and
sleeping
liquors

misted
by love


wet
with
invisibles

moon
skulled
 

+ he is an
expression
of
decadence


touching
my
lily
snow


this.
falling.
ribbon.
kneeling
in burgundy
mud




&




I
am
so
love
sick 

on
capsules
of
glass
& glitter



shimmering
his
crystaled
oak







a
powdered
golden
obsession


  I
am
without words
and slow



the
light
wounds
him

like
a peacocks

breath
             .
              .
            .
         .
      .
      .
         .
           +
                       

                       




                Dans
                     l'obscurite
                         Je cherche ton son