hour after hour

give us this nada our daily nada

they know better, but ingrained in each
consciousness is the command:
liturgy of lust is selective and
compulsory-
our father forgive them, for they know just
what they do. banal and exploratory,
they’ve made a mockery :
(and kissing is simply a circumstance)
traded it for glory- the slipshod fervor of hands
groping and groaning for truth
(but settling for a nipple).

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