RMC

Fearless were you,
virgin little boy,
eighteen years,
made you employ.

A joy to the eye
in my eye I like.
Here don’t despise
the eye enjoys spikes.

Of light gleams
steam of a beam
of light extreme
enter like machine.

Glycerine spills
on skin where belong
again do fiends song
has righted wrongs.

Take my silly
ventures like a sail.
Blow wind kill me,
the lowly frail.

But I know a fiend
that is me I know well
in this drama dream
noise from hell.