LUST




It fills my heart and body
seeking the weakness of fleshly desires
hungry for the silent pain of rapture

It burns in my soul
a flaming brand of passion's hatred
a fiery ember wrought with the ghosts of despair

It fills with gilded beauty and decay
the dirges of Faith and Need
the secret depths of Harmony 

It torments my very soul
with hope's sweet agony, something near to love
yet softer and more piercing than the cruel, wintry wind

It washes over me with waves, 
waves of pleasure, of desire, of flawed perfection
writhing wild and delirious in the throes of appetite

It begs for submission, for release, 
supplicating caresses like a hundred moth's wings
always capturing me again, locked away in its sublimity

It cries for surrender
for the gentle stillness of memory
for the seething depths of carnal longing ... 

(c) copyrighted 1997