Men fall into disuse like machines

and I keep love evanescent 

like some sexual soucriant 

Fragile porcelain skin

evocative and carved

with my vicissitudes

and my name is cursed and I am accused

with words like bitch and succubus

in these murmurous mountains

and I smile 

they trace these scars longingly

they cry out for some denouement

so do I, which is why 

they are left depraved

and look for something else to crave

and yield my wanton desires

setting several fires

leading them astray

these bridges erupt too easily anyway...