the lights are on

the tvs off

the floors are flesh and silk

both sinfully soft

skin glides over silk

and silk glides over skin

the penthouse is alive tonight

theres people writhing in its veins



sunken in the masters chair

lord golds face—a blank survey

women pleasure men at the wave of a golden hand

and turn to receive when it waves again



the wine is fire

the whiskys full of stars

theres a deaf mute in a bunny suit

working the bar

the lovers FUCK

they pulse and moan

passion paying tribute

at the foot of a porcelain.......



sunken in the masters chair

lord golds face—a blank survey

women pleasure men at the wave of a golden hand

and turn to receive when it waves again



STILL HIS EYES ARE LIKE AN EMPTY CAROUSEL

PROMISING PLEASURE BUT OFFERING NONE!

....she feels him,

WATCHING GAZING LEERING BLANKLY VACANT WORTHLESS GOLDEN PERFECT



beyond these walls nothing exists

here theres flesh + gold and blood in the wine

outside theres barren emotional landscapes

here we drink, dream + cum inside

here theres no pain

HERE.....SHE.......COMES

WASH OFF THE FILTH AND BRING HER

shower her body with julep and incense

fill her with jewels covered in cum

sacrificed in HIS alter of passions

the golden day ahas come



the lights are all off now

and the love growing louder

the pink, throbbing and filling the room

indulging the inner, denying the outer

shes brought before he

his empty gaze it lingers....

...he beats a cats paw- against a toy drum

his GOLDEN WILL be done.



(FIN)