Temper the longings

you see... love's a near death experience
near meth experience
near black ringed eyes of solitude...
and I thought I'd teach you
but oh, how you taught me...

nearly autumned in your presence
or presented as a strange young specimen
of night
when you asked me
"what style's this cathedral built in?"
I had to answer
"miss Dada, you know what I meant, now don't you?"

and I loved the places where you'd take me
only they were not enough
to soothe me
and we were not enough for lovers
at this here special
occasion
and I've been searching for something more
but it's only by the way
by now...

you see... at the Pink Dots' gig
I thought I held an angel
who'd give my work a meaning
and a further
investigation...
but instead your Nazi brigades
almost slayed the
pitiful
singer...
and I really loved your stockings
then
and I wish they could play
Belladonna

and I loved that elegance
gutter
and the sax that smashed into
eyeballs

there's a strange little rascal backstage...
& he doesn't go for the calm
territories...
"my god, you're just like an earthquake..."
remember how you denied me?

second row... first encounter

all's fine now at my side of the pool...
all's vivid
viciously
yours

& in pauses of my breath you speak...

& I guess that it makes you real
happy...

if only we could temper our longings
and make them somehow
work...