IN THE HOUR OF THE WOLF

I watch the gloaming
of my years
March on, march on
In spite of fears

Oh passing days
Like big-horse-clouds
She/he, my Soul
So onward steers

Oh, strike the thought
like suicide
That I must stop
My thick oil glide

My dancing hands
On strange men’s breasts
To cease release
Breeds foul duress!

Sensual working
Man-made hours
Soothing muscles cherish
Making smiles from glowers

The tune I dance to
As it plays
The love I sell
Though't never stays

But in sweet cream
There is a trust
To lubricate
Prevents the rust

And lust is all
But nothing more
Than fleeting sun rays
on the floor

Oh how lustrous
Were my smiles
How rapturous
Were these tears

To watch the gloaming
of my days
March on, march on
In spite of fears

Oh passing time
Like big-horse-clouds
She/he, my Soul
Much closer, nears