Indelible ink!
Oh breast, that ’twere rapture to writhe on!
Oh arms ’twere delicious to feel
Clinging close with the crush of the Python,
When she maketh her murderous meal;
In thy eight-fold embraces enfolden,
Let our empty existence escape;
Give us death that is glorious and golden,
Crushed all out of shape!
Ah thy red lips, lascivious and luscious,