I cannot get your dark green 
    dragon optics from my core 
  each piece of glass scratches 
      intentionally, the pointiest tip
 to pierce the flesh of all X digits 
    M on each one in cursive 
       a feast of the flesh 
   possible with rubbed prints 

    These fingers touch my body 
  with ease and a burgundy burn 
    you want to stroke and watch 
        the plasma from one digit 
   was not enough 
      a lover that reclines 
 amid the pain of another express
     caress the inner most state 
  forget all things cerebral 
 full finger tips reach and echo 

“Please, just let me in.”
“Allow me to watch you touch 
     yourself.” 
  “I WILL NOT ABANDON YOU.”

      Offer me the most sacred view 
  each fragment of glass 
      granules of sand 
   adhered to the blood 
     each M on my finger
        owned by you 
   and oblivious to the fact 
       M for MADNESS! 

   Forged second chances 
      blood, invisible lovers 
    only dressed by The Emperor 
     and a vanished cloak to escape 
         the true death 
    sacrificial coeur 
         tossed on the heap 
     of rubbish 
        forever lost 
  as with the last scene 
     of Wilde’s Happy Prince