Is love self-destructive in itself?
The black passion abyss is but darkness
and the black hole of it an inferno,
but what's love without that pit,
and who can live without it?
Love consumes me utterly, and I enjoy the plague,
imploring it to never ease and cease its torment
but continue the exacerbation and acceleration
since love is something no one ever had enough of.
I am only human and as vulnerable and exposed as anyone
to the infernal persecution and seduction
of outrageous love and can but thoroughly enjoy it
for as long as it continues gracing me by torture
and can but ask it to go on and never cease.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 517 times
Written on 2011-09-22 at 10:03
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