Poetry

You go for a daily ritual 
to water a passion tree; 
for greasy palms of petals of 
lewd figures. 
 
Always had a goddess 
in young days, 
now you are trying to find an 
erogenous zone in searing heat. 
 
It ia not raining. The impact of 
instant romanticism. The past 
throws the virtue in vain. Terror 
had been benevolent. 
 
The beasts and flowers, endless 
friendship of strippers. The holes 
are widening in the sky asking 
for the blasts to go for ever.