My Heathen Utopia

The velvet touch of adders tongue
compressed upon the wounds of summer streets
twilight and this madness, here upon the eve
striking resemblance to the nestling of the bees

sharper words then tender kiss
laughing in the tidal mist
sentient quest to orion of ancestry
all markings pointing to serious B

A dreamy depiction induced before the dusk embraces the night
a short steep of hops valerian and the fragrant essence of artemisia vulgaris
to whence the garden, oh paradise, a dream not so far from epicurus'
oh dominion weep, for we forgot responsibility of surrender and action
all a while filled our heads with useless distraction
as if shiva was the only light