@ 27.055 MHz: Ad Astra; Adagio, In A Hotel Suite, West London, 1889, 2 [Repost]

A prostitute is all that you can be

in this rigid, repressed society.

But your exquisite beauty has inspired

certain lines of erotic poetry;

and your body is very much desired;

though by old prudes and haters, much reviled.

Soft curls cascade--your profuse, waist-length hair---

over your flesh, which, now, is almost bare

except for those long stockings you like to wear,

during love, that sheathe yourlegs from thighs to toes.

Yes, you deserve exquisite verse, not prose;

so says your visitor, that Mr. Wilde,

on whom you will bestow the evening's joy:

you--legal to consent---still seem a boy. 


ENVOI:  

 

But lust, not love, has its insidious way

of sometimes leading some lovers astray.

You fear that Mr. Wilde may meet a day

that brings unceasing horror and dismay

on him, so that his life's fabric must fray. 

 


Starward

[*/+/^]

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