Work Text:
Provoked by strange desire we make our stand
and rush against each other all enraged
by pride, all loving touch is henceforth banned.
Close-fisted hands keep pilgrim kisses caged.
While bruising knuckles roughly touch my face,
fine substitutes for lips I do reject,
across your cheek bright blood fans out like lace
--- the life you stole from those I should protect.
Raised unworthy, my loathing turns to lust.
Alike in dislike no longer, I crave
the dead, who are like me, reanimated dust.
Your hopeful hands are frozen by the grave,
your tenderness more hurtful than your taunts.
Your bloody fist's the only kiss I want.