Tick tock to a clock that won't stop,
eclipsed lunacy, my hungers growl,
in midnight groves,
where this love awaits.
Patience is a virtue I don't possess
when I know what I want
all other time is simply wasted.
Moon-beam stirred, blood boil,
the red for my passion;
fullness for my love.
Ripened, but still hanging,
this noose dangles
more than a heart.
Fatal kiss while
passions' dance over
the flame-kissed edge.
May I be consumed in your fire.
©2005 TLB
