Fin


Withering away into the decay of former love.

        Solace returned in a once porcelain tub.

Shards from spilled Scotch encompass the marble floor. 

Upon such very slab, Venus was borne.

With lost arms who will catch your fall?

The fall of man began when man first fell in love.

The same which birth our daughters 

In warm bloody waters.

Haunt me no more…

Hunt me no more.

© S E U Nx


The Shadow Wolf

  • Hieroglyphics aligned on ribs, minus one, Forever hiding God’s scars. Her Highness’ lips I tease with royal honey.
  • Satin felt brassiere, unlatched with ivory canines as rabid wolves drenched in wanderlust, such in discovery of new fertile lands.
  • Iron cuffs bound to Persian bedposts have no greater link than I in Her, and I in Her is where Heaven and Hell merge carnal delights, angelic harps, with the echoing drumming of devilish hearts.
  • Painted moans sing from the canvas of her ageless soul, forever ageing slow…ly. Drink of my goodness and I will eat of your bone, both from below, Italian feather thread count immeasurable, as we lost angels shed in flight over the Ruins of Rome.
  • Lo and behold in champagne baths lathered in petals of rose, Beluga Caviar served upon the throne of our Victorian Turkish Bath.
  • Skin of Midas disrobed with only laced blindfolds above her nose, perfumes profuse while in admiration of her youthful ruse. 
  • Blood rises from her hidden sight, carefully applied rouge, and in unabashed nude, we howl at the last moon.

© S E U Nx


Flowers In Bed


As I hum – In this teal suit

Almost congealed to my dark skin.

She paints on lambskin napkins

And bookmarks unfinished art books with Orchids.

With a playful tan line of where her brassiere once was

I’m sure the sun and God took turns painting it there.

Nestled sand beneath dance with me.

As we ascend upwards a never-ending staircase built from books on heaven,

My modelesque figure with the giraffe neck whispers as softly as air…

“You are heaven.

 You will never find you”.

 Plummet back to hell

 As plucked flowers…

 We, the Devil’s bed.

© S E U Nx