By Your Altar

 
Give me Arcadia,
biblical notions,
unscrupulous scenery,
wine, wanton, worship,
spice, sex and soul food,
and golden ideas
too big to hold in.

It's all in your skin
and the promises still
in the quill, maybe whip
of your glimmering hair.

Give me America,
nine needle pricks worth
of accentuated ecstasy,
thinner than ice
larger than life
and golden, golden
such golden little lies.

It's all in your eyes
and the pressure of closer
than decency thighs
parting, pushing,
playing me further
to the brink of
no excuses, no goodbyes.

Give me insanity,
take my humanity,
take what you will,
spit me praise and profanity,
power me up just to
wrestle me down
pinned to the image
of that fallen gown,
laid to kneel with me
awed at the altar
of those arched
amorous ankles.

It's all in your lips
and those magical,
hypnotic, halloween hips,
dancing, delectable,
barely detectable
quiver from your
pinching powertrips.

Give give give,
just lean in closer,
smother my breath
with that calamitous
gorgeous grin.

Just kiss me,
bloody hell,

and anything
and everything
will finally follow.