Fifty two envelopes each with a key.
But, only two unlock the door that
you keep trying to break open.
A gamble you take with ecstatic desperation.
A gamble you hate loving to make.
Whose rapture is whom’s ecstasy?
Wrapped and rapt.
And remember this.
Keep your boots clean.
Bite a thumbnail from a pretty petty pouting mouth,
Remembering a horrible dream wherein you made an exchange with the devil,
only to remember it on waking,
and be so terrified at what you promised that
You pray to god that
the devil be made to make good on the words,
knowing full well
god and the devil may not care what you want.
So, let me interfere with your energy extraneously and
show you yourself as
you know yourself naught.