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Nu
Serpentine lover
My devotion to your imperious and majestic beauty is incessant and golden
A creature of lotus petals and lapis lazuli
You are a phantasy that Petrarch dreamt
An unfolding sonata that Beethoven had writ
Your pinks yellows blacks and blues are splashed upon my heart
And my being
Odalisque
A point, obscured, of pink
On a standing womanly figure
In the center of a room
In a far away country
Lost to time, lost to the reasonings of French gentilhommes
An array of colored rugs
None for praying, prayer is impossible in such a place
In a small and cramped room
In a sand-white structure
On an old and dirty street
A young and soft beauty
Then an old women, then dust
A long time ago
An open window, a view of the beach
O Minotaur, I Love You
O minotaur I love you
Sulphur and choler
Spit black and red
Nectar of cocaine
We drink in the brothels
Love of perdition
Sing an old cruel song
A great dark cave
Fit for a hermit
Emits a white light
John Heather is an aspiring poète maudit who believes himself to be some sort of avatar of the zeitgeist and occasionally leaves his room.