Lust // Loss

//Worst is inexplicable lust -

It resides as a singularity within the soul - a hole not unlike Hawkings'- from which nothing, not even light, can escape.

Whose spectral fingers, running along spinal bone, beg and beckon and berate.

"Give me more, give me more."

"What do you want?"

Just more. Anything. More.

//I am not immune. I am the context for these lewd statements.

I want bra straps of heady self-intoxication to snap under my fingers like ribbons at groundbreaking ceremonies.

I want hot sighs from cracked jewel lips to flood every canal dug deep within me, in eddies of gold - yeah, I want Ego orgasm, and I'm saying that out loud, not putting it in humble pie cellophane wrap and offering it up for sale to the quietest, most hard-working, vengeful nerd fantasy camp.

//I want some disco shit.

I want more because I feel I deserve it.

But I don't know why.