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Dust Mites With Lanterns
By
adagio_sabadicus

Dust Mites With Lanterns

Some see me opaque. 
Cloudy.
Lurid at best.
Like musty tome pages,
with dust mites carrying lanterns. 

Witless. 
Humorless.
Scratching at bones.
The ink is my brine,
pickled with a quill.
Some say. 

Sensuality in cob webs.
The corners of old mold.
Pleasures comes many ways.
When my penis is at home.
 Scribing.

The blotter censors.
That which doesn't dry.
Words of eroticism, 
plagiarized by spirits.
With gin and two olives. 

Dry levity will not open chambers
to one's libido.
Intoxicated on lust,
or turn musty tome pages.
With dust mites carrying lanterns.

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