Desire
is a butterfly with crumpled wings
tangled in a web struggling attached.
With each twist and every turn
strangle hold tightens.
A hungry spider watches...
waiting.
Desire is a big gaping hole
with fangs like a vampire
and vice like jaws firmly clamped
that draws life blood
down the
drain.
Desire is a burning itch
that doesn't go away.
Flames lick like lovers in heat
and passion bug bites,
red, swollen and inflamed
infest body and soul.
Scratch harder. Bite more.
Suck the juice out of us.
You whore.
We're blistering with disease
that you gave us.
Insidious trap. Ingenious trap.
Amazing how you trick us
into believing that you are the
cure
to make it go away.
Stick sticky we stick, immobilized,
we are flies on a floor
covered with emotional glue.
Do we bother struggling to break
free?
Or simply wait for release
in the guise of death.
I suppose I may stick around for
awhile...
It seems less futile.
Oh bitter sweet Desire
I love you too much to respond.
Let's be silent together in a still
mist of truce
resting peacefully, fulfilled in
each other .
I want nothing.
© 1999 by David Bozzi |