The vein runs deep with passion’s flow.
Love’s ichor seeps toward the core.
Liquid lust reveals a spoor
Wherein its viscous vice may show.
Alight with scents of ebon tar,
The straits of sensual fury boil.
With oily gleam, their torrents roil
Through steaming streamlets fast and far.
Traced in tracks of treacly tricks,
Swirls of slickest passion stir.
Ferocious seas of sick allure
Seethe in sin of vicious mix.
A sanguine sluice sends the urge
To every nerve but never slakes.
In full the venom’s vigour wakes
Where runs of wanton will converge.