don't worry my darling my heart is bound by bandages    I've known your lusty randomness before    that quaint, phallic ego wandering down my corridors    if you're searching for that ancient girl you won't find her    she's faceless she's voiceless she's goddess lore       or were you fumbling for me in the dark?    I, the ever-burning, forgotten lark.    and you, the current incarnation of the ever-looping, earthly affliction: Desire, rejection, attraction, dejection    I'm not in on your benediction.       just don't fret my adorable ridiculous darling    her stone statue is bound to beckon you back into    your ritual-rendezvous    with imaginary tugs in you belly    and then your ego can flash out like a laser    to project yourself onto her    if she could move, you'd cage her    just to possess some small token of her favor    don't you understand? she's ancient ruins. you can't save her       but if stone loins could ache from bearing generation    she'd be renewed into youth not for your boyish veneration    or your wooing consternation    her laughter dances into diaspora incarnation    it's more than desire rejection attraction dejection    We're not in your benediction.       to you she's an image    she'd dancing like Shiva    adoring you with her whole heart and anonymous being    to me she's a yearning, visceral, insatiable    to break into recognizable individuals    if I couldn't be a beauty queen servant    you can bet I can't be an archetype dream    I'm so much more like you than you want me to seem    I got the same scared hands, in the dark, fumbling    I got the same slip-drop grip of any hominid wonderling       so you see, I'm not love struck    more like stunned or dumbstruck    by the smell of such a gushing gullible scent on your skin    you thought you'd just sneak up and get closer    but you'll wanna back up just enough so I can't breathe it in       oh desire oh rejection oh attraction dejection    I'm not in on your benediction.