It creeps silently into my cells,
Raping and devouring them
–With all the voracity of a level-five virus.
What used to be mine to control; manipulate,
Rebels in uniformed mutiny.
This attack came not from within,
Not from my blood,
But from my eyes,
And my nose,
And the most innocent brushing
Of your chest by my betraying
I felt sure you’d turn disgusted
As they reached longingly for your hands
to your lips for sweet,
My mind swoons from the
Inebriating thoughts messengered there,
From the General; my sex
Engorged and throbbing
For any militious contact
Between our bodies
You smile politely, unaware of the threat
That is sure to besiege you,
The apocalyptic wave, that forces me
Ceremoniously to my knees. . .
Sweet priest. . .
Has set its World-demolishing armies upon thee.
Run for your virginal life,
For thus far,
Yet stands in its wake.