Have you ever  let it just sit on your tongue,
  where the temptation is great—
er,—I mean, I have not, but I
  always bite right in, as maliciously,
magnificently; but you can let it be safe—
sitting, bleeding in streams, teeming in sugary,
  or savory—
death in the jaws of life?

That is the difference between a monster and man,
  when you let it melt on your tongue—
unwrapped from its silver-and-red sarcophagus—
resist, that temptress in tin foil scraps to cover
the most irresistible parts—

 
Do you bite or melt, tender chocolate,
beloved mistress,
  belligerent paramour, we’re all
monsters here, by the form
  of our sweet, malevolent tooth;

the edge of desire has never been so sharp.