The custom house of emotions . . .
Puzzlecracking
The dashing river to unknown lands . . .
By searches,
Palpitating,
And ransacking,
Dreams are held here
By force of iron hands.

A customs officer of your intentions,
I'm here to open all -
The circle is closed! -
What's in your eyes
And lips?
Are there retentions
Of anything
That must be all exposed?

I'll take away the treasures of your being -
Why do you want all them to be clandestine?
I will embrace your treasures,
Every thing:
That night they will be mine,
They are predestined.

I'll pour your breasts
In goblets of my hands,
Drinking rapaciously
Eternal juices.
This wondrous fruit
Of other continents
Is just for me,
Forget all your seducers.

It is revealed to me:
Your latent warmth,
Your skin, delight that pleasingly illuming,
Your helplessness
Of which I've been informed
And nakedness . . .
They are what I'm consuming.

Don't rush the looming train of lust,
Don't rush!
The custom house of emotions . . .
Sacrilegious
Love is the ticket
To the land of lush.
Next morning you'll be there,
Turn in your riches!

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