THE SIRENS OF HYPOTHALAMUS
© Electric Babylon Music Author: M.M.
Over and across oceans and egos, they will lure any man from shore to
sea, a song with a shiny hook of sacrifice, bated with the taste of what
Never was a beauty more formalized, the soprano tongue of her
temptation, and you feel like the wind chasing a star, no longer the dumb
show of sublimation.
She stands dressed in your imaginations default, and you a connoisseur of
melody, she has the moon on a chain of mornings, and you believe you
could live off the scraps of this luxury.
Her price in detail uncalculated, the slope of her hips; perfections grade,
but it’s your desire that swims madly thru your blood, she just feeds off
the meal you have made.
Will you swim to her island of you, distorted by the phantom of the view,
with rose petal sex and love in wine, with angels for lips and the devil’s
spine, the milk of her myth to nourish newborn, and the shoulder of time
when the build is shopworn, poet of her muse; you write the song she
sings, only ashes delivered in the heat she brings.