G in mind

Sui generis

If I met you in the street

A metaphysical argument would begin

From nothing, along this street

You came into being

Old arguments turn into

I haven’t a clue

Sentences fall at your theoretical feet, and words fall apart into leather pieces

Allow

For I will be helpless before you, domme morrigan

To argue, disappear to let come

The image of you comes

And the universe

Is between my thighs