the art of fishing

i want to catch your sighs in my net 
and reel, 
your locked-in, 
safe-tight shut, 
bus-depot locker thoughts. 
with baited hooks 
and fastidious, patient rod 

and if, i manage to lure you 
with my chosen form of bait 
i will remove each scale (of thought) 
and attach them to my aortic pipe 
using your vitreous jelly, 
and your green tinted iris’s 
to lock me into each frame of your viewfinder 
as i zoom in on the meshed grays and reds, 
in order to nourish my desire to dissect, 
each upturned lip, 
coarse sexy laugh, and intense soft stare. 
i want to suck the blood from your raw flesh 
and leave your lemon-squeezed afrikerdom politeness 
as scraps to the vultures. 
i want to savour your ultimate truth