by J.F. Pringle
Sweet nectar,
Just a sip.
Bitter wine,
Drink deep—to the dregs.
No, don’t pinch your nose.
Taste that shit.
It’ll put hair on your chest—
Like weavings of Kevlar.
Makes a great blanket,
To keep your lonely ass warm when the chill comes.
And it will come—
Like a good lover, over and over.
And it will ravage you—
Like the lover you never wanted.
Squeal like a little piggy.
Cry for your God.
And feel that shit regardless.
That thing you asked for—
Eyes to see.
Still want it?
The answer was yes.
Well, He listened to me.