Lest in-quest, begin, of the, seminal sin
Wherein, love’s spent vein; lust’s nerve unspent
Entwining, termite tunnels, on our, squirming skin
Weave a truth, with the lies, of a sacrament!
Immortal bliss, the rose, had smelt, until I felt
Many shades, of pain, in its, mortal flesh
In my tryst, where two, paradoxes melt
I dissolve, in the depths, of, delusions’ mesh!
From that, promise, of, infinite bliss
To, this seeker, and, sought-one’s conquest
Lest, the phallus, be, pompous clitoris
Yet, the equation, seems manifest!
Amidst, our ethical, social chores
We crave, to death, sensual bloodshed
Beyond, our mean, moral metaphors
A Myth, Is Sex, We Shred, In Bed!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra