05-07-2023, 01:24 AM
DeSade, 1814
DeSade at least knew
the kingdom of lust
to be a faery land,
its spirits, Nature’s secret police.
He couldn’t stop writing those dreams
because he was a criminal mind
in an age before the criminal
became the second guess
in every blister of sex.
From prison to insane asylum
he charted out our world to come,
the pain that goes before us
the expelled breathlessness of pleasure
never sated, that haunts us
more than death could ever hope.
First they took away all paper and pens,
then they forbid performances,
leaving him with only a 14-year old
to console him in his final years.
DeSade at least knew
the kingdom of lust
to be a faery land,
its spirits, Nature’s secret police.
He couldn’t stop writing those dreams
because he was a criminal mind
in an age before the criminal
became the second guess
in every blister of sex.
From prison to insane asylum
he charted out our world to come,
the pain that goes before us
the expelled breathlessness of pleasure
never sated, that haunts us
more than death could ever hope.
First they took away all paper and pens,
then they forbid performances,
leaving him with only a 14-year old
to console him in his final years.