Amative

As the one betrays me
As the idyll leaves me one more time
Making me hunt for another scent

All the tender perfumes
All the summer sandals gouge in me
Making me paw like a mating hart

All the girls, seeing my weakness, juggle with me
Everyday another tuning is having its way
Feeling like Pete – attracted by mass but died all alone
Envying Nick – solemnly praised and turned to stone

Always try to please them
Always try to feed them with a flirt
Bidding my love for fifty cents

Like a dog I’m handled
Like a doll I’m mangled in their arms
Opening sores in any part

My taste is forming
My moral is spoiling
Am I rising
As God of fashion?