Monday, February 15, 2010
the back of her stockings, black skirt made of
illusion sashays past. Insanity’s sinful scent
lingers. Dilemma: walk toward wisdom or
allow her to lull me to her luxury,
just one more time...
Her eyes pull me forward, face
in her sweat. Virtue lost in her corruption. She
rips off my principles, unbuckles my
integrity, pulls down my character. She drops
to her knees as though she is the slave that beholds
Her hellish eyes ignite.
Rage twists out my very
essence. She spanks my addiction until she swallows
my last drop of degradation. She saunters away
as the master of my moil.