There’s Nothing Quite like Love
There’s nowt like love. Its sanctimony fills
A man as if he never knew a truth
As banging as its spurting semen thrills.
Its sanctity rings holy and uncouth
Like Lucifer when he first understood
The shudder of his sin and clasped it close
Inside his ribcage. Bright his wonder stood
Inside his innards. Holiness as gross
As first iniquity was bound to be
And so he hid it in his core, a throb
There deeper than the one forbidden sea
St. John envisioned, deep like death’s deep sob.
Hypocrisy is everything in love.
This fiend is like a famished, long-clawed dove.
~ Phillip Whidden