sweet dripping sin, the price as costly as liquid elation; sold by the pint.
its couterfiet twin, made carelessly for any inclination, to a dupe who might;
drink deeply of its rabid concauction.
the body yeilds to any touch or wind it feels,
the mind will go astray; lust agony and desire summon what it may.
it all sounds fun till the job is done, but your slow recognition came too late; one turn too few or many and into hands of fate.
In iron demon claws, cruel and austere; blocking all truth and heightening each fear
words seem to lose meaning more with e'ry tear. so i'm an empty page, silently opaque yet damn clear.
--Salacious.muse
*creative.commons2007