And Edgar Allan Poe is laughing
With no mercy, as he always did.
Don’t sing my praises in your poems
You know I’m not the courtesan
Who whispers crafted loving words
And pantomimes the innocence
To gain the favors of the bruised admirers
Disoriented flying like black birds.
Just come in bed with me tonight
And let’s make love
The love we’ve always made
In an attempt to leave this universe
Devouring each other bit by bit
Like in a painting signed by Salvador Dali
Going beyond the fear of a terrifying death
Each time we knew a hurricane will hit.