Love Poem

[heslopian]

Laid out on the master bed,
like a sons of Andronicus,
cooked and filleted
and bare, a supple pastry, prepared
all for me - and I salivate on you
like a selfish old king,
keeping the peasants at the gate
as I gorge - I soak you in a
fine layer of spit. I tweak your nipples

and you whimper like mice,
shivering as I bury
my head in your crotch,
and I show this penthouse
just how much I love you,
as I reach your prostate;
you bite my finger.

Just then, some stupid football fan
burst into our corridor,
screaming rhetoric in support
of his team, his overpaid idols,
and for a moment I considered,
in all seriousness, seizing
the silver tray on which
our room service was brought,
and beating the bastard to death.
Only for a moment, mind.
Your sphincter closed
and left me trapped,
I kissed your neck, rubbed your
shoulders, my shirt still on
and my trousers around
my ankles. And together
we waited for the noise
to die out.