Venus

You absentee tenant, I curse your harsh breasts from which I try to
feed.
Venus, Cupid sisters in arms. Your arrows turn to snakes whose arrows
awaken my coprolalia.
From where will I curse you?
Tempt me with fruit from the apple tree.
Once sweet but turned rotten in the palm of your hand.
I will pierce your skin with my hate so sour.
Tied to the rack I look at my scars to see how I will exact my
revenge.