The Fantasy

Your beauty is the thorns,
It hurts

I want to grip you tight,
It bleeds

I want to devour you alive,
It is anguish

You shimmer,
I dimmer

You're the centre of every
ticking clocks,
I am a dreamer who foolishly wishes to freeze the times out of the watch on your wrist

You are the champagne of every kingdom's feast,
I am a pervert slave who craves to sip your blood
and kiss your feet

You are the wondrous mind of every scientists' sanity,
I am just a piece of tender cranium of a maverick

You are the cover of my daily magazine,
I could only forever daydream
and drool a river to it

You look so great,
It is a pain on my neck

But after all,
Can I please have you?