(Baudelaire to Nadar, 1867)
Absolute sky how you confound
Spotless virtue and ruin poets
Bent double with damnation profane
Here, voiceless to the impetus of coming night
I rave and punch upward, mute
But for my tainted crawling eyes.
Satan! Commander of my tongue
Once we played venomous games
Come now! Saturate your hysterical greed.