The lovers are at it again
with tongues sharp
as glass they pierce
the silence with staccato
cries that silence silence
and fall away like fear
The lovers are at it again
in the quickening pulse
of their deviant blood
they bellow, squirm
a naked ocean
that casts hungry shadows
on the grainy wall
that are illuminated
by the leering moon
The lovers are at it again
with every bated breath
and every barbed kiss
they defy and defile
decorum and convention
rage against loneliness
with their outrageous
all encompassing embraces
The lovers are at it again
they are legion and
they continue to multiply
a revolution by night
played out in a thousand
brazen acts of tenderness
hidden from the jaded eyes
of a million brilliant stars
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