:: Castigate ::

Beast

You love, and leaving is not your business,
The blot of shame is another episode lost.
Like a madonna unseen, a virgin hope unseamed,
I guard your hopelessness like a common beggar.

What torments, now, is the beast of want,
Who has discarded honour long before this hour:
It only screams with a vagrant tongue, its wanting,
A prophet cold on the slippery side of faith.

I feel - the leathery scratch of claws - all its questions,
Why should you care for my poor prologue?
What is the decayed, the declared, the diseased
In your timid troubles bitterly spoken?

You live, and dying is not your business,
You kiss your own dark hands, I cannot, anymore:
Because my nails have torn themselves off
In bid to liquidate love's warm blood.