him and desire

serpent eyed boy
who slithers in leather
he has the fire
on his knuckles
and as he creeps

he breaks the tabernacle
and spreads disease
i love to hate
his every whim
bound in withered sin

he lurks out
in the garden
while angels arent about
he sieves and surfs the water
in his crystal ball glint

how passions could feel
nothing but the play man's
sonnets, he can leap
and in his step

start the apocalypse
without its limits
such heartache framed
can cause the pain

of love. and some other
bullshit.