hold me

Tie me down to the rantings of yore
make me smell funny
more foul than I do
but smile all the same
with that lustfull grin
of wanting me so much
you don't know what to do
with me and yourself
and the sweat inbetween
they don't make incense that strong
they don't let us lube up the way that we want
but it is ok
because the sun
will rise in the morning
and we know it gone in the night
all things are ok except
shards of glass inbedded in palms that drunkenly fell