Obsessa
BY WILLIAM P. ROBERTSON I JANUARY 12, 2010

Obsessa only pines
for humanoids
she can't have.
Moon-eyed, she mulls
over trips to far-off stars
where her tongue
leaves radiation burns
on boys, milk-smooth.
She winds her tentacles
around her breasts
and sighs for males
of less fragile bone.
Her bottled love oil
sold millions of units,
but no one survived
the cameo of her lust.

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