From a distance, I can see your
Marks on flesh; The horizon of your tan
As sanctification penalizes redundancy.
You ring the bell.
My dormant narcissistic condition
Awakens for the Ides of March;
Dealing iniquity an error,
Data corrupted by Eve’s temptation.
Likely never actualized;
Finishing off with latex
Laced loosely between labia,
The definition of my Valentine,
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.