(Image from Google Images)
You can’t disguise being desensitized
To real life desire,
these hips and thighs,
and breathless sighs
of once love,
The silent knowledge of unspoken lies,
in the dark, I couldn’t see your eyes,
but knew I was already compromised
and felt like just a substitute
for the smut.
It seems that lately, all too often,
you’ve let your fingers do the walkin’,
and I’ve wasted countless hours
a seasonal rut?
My worst competition is you, you see.
Threatened by something
I can never be.
Feeling rejected again, you know me…
But this time, I thought
I’d just keep my mouth shut.
What does silence profit this heart?
Selflessness is a dying art.
Each time my ego bleeds
is a dart,
and a testament to another
Hollow men never fill their void.
But they allow true love
to be destroyed,
by self-gratified spurts,
by the variety of
an endorphin-ous glut.
For actions, there are consequences.
All the justifications and defenses,
for a habit formed so long ago;
an addiction you choose,
because you won’t let it go.
So why am I here again?
~ C.L.R. ~ © 2010