I often wonder, Malena, are we insane,
or merely addicted to the pain?
 
I chose you, as you are the most angelic maiden in all of
the surrounding villages. sweet child of innocence, as you
hang in the merciless chains. your glory enrages Athena,
and your beauty reduces Helen to a simple char-woman.
 
under the urging of my whips and my cane, your
screams regale the night, primitive as a beast –
something wild howling in the moonlight.
 
your cries hold a melody, a dirge fashioned by the
mingling of your torment and your ecstasy.
In these Cimmerian shadows, such is my symphony.
 
I treasure the scarlet welts rising on your perfectly
sculpted flesh. you are divine as Galatea,
and I exalt in my artistry…
 
Oh, Sweet Malena,
my pain sculpted temptress
ill-used, swaying pendulum princess.
 
unsullied innocence shrouded in agony,
twisting and struggling against my snarling chains (parody?)
 
Darling, you’re my stained, fervent invitation,
silken flesh, sultry, salted, fetishized sensation.
 
you cast carved, erotic cries
of torment, sating my scornful eyes.
 
a lust feast in distress, woven sin for soldier men.
beautiful outcast, night’s wish, thrusting little dish.
 
my unrestrained hunger drags its teeth against your jaw.
not even the Belgium Wall can save you from my gnaw.
 
Sweet Malena, withheld from soft caress,
a diseased luxury, exploited, filthy lust fest.
 
scantiness sewn in enemy dreams –
Sweet Malena has broken, it seems…