Embrace Testo

Probing in the sickly heat of the humid night.
Aching.
Lidless eyes in the dark, wide and omniscient,
coax along the cadaverous mass of ligament and hair.
Raid in the street.
Stolen innocence. Godless species.
Lowly tryst. Lecherous moon.
Fucked to death in the street.
No meaning.
No answers. No God left to save your soul.
No meaning.
No answers.
The end.