lost messages

Quick to leave an impression
The fruitless seeds of “the only question”
Have been riddled with breathtaking roots
And soiled with “the promise”
Of a youthful engagement
Brought by sensations
Of both kinds, each word will
Rewind and bring back in its
gleaming teeth
A bare and questionable sin
Mouthless it shall begin 
Signing with its labia
Such phallic nonsense
Dissecting truth with each motion of the palm
releasing, each rosy fold
Like the love me nots
wilted after many summer moons-
Rarely taunt,
he will nonchalantly
trickle over me like
Rusting Acid rain,
Staining me like solemn catholic  windows
its warm chemicals
bond into my porous skin,
this naivety the Ph7 balance
its neutral mindset
graces me
like the ardor of martyrdom-
the subservient nature
Of love.