Mine hands revel to fervid lecherous sighs,
softly brushing your bristle skin and vividly
stroking your flushing hair.

Yours clenching mine wrist, moaning to end
this apocalypse and your eyes dreading in
despair.

The after-hours turn mine human hands
vicious slave of the whole
hole in my soul

and her lithe figure would bear this hare
for the molten wax to respair