In Cursive Style

A bruise has appeared?
where you had kissed me,
last night. O Miranda?
I am not going for any other moon.

Like Uranus, I bleed
in my eyes; from every pore.
Astraphobia? I am going to
stay in dark.

This theology of aneurysms?
Who was hoodwinking
the ancient gods in the battle
of murderous themes? My hands
start shaking.

A blue rash spreads.
In honeyed voice you invoke
your angel and seek blessings?
before you go for a rape.