Timothy

Jack's Twisted Kingdom
2015-06-28 05:20:03 (UTC)

Silver Tongued, Lashed

I've slept with the enemy. or rather, the enemy slept with me, that more than anything would be the way of it, the red harried icicle that blooms from the edge of a rapaciously and optimistic self sacrificing internity, in her, no longer can one escape the vice that one indulges in so vigorously, in denial, I rail, in acceptance, I am lasciviously unfettered, unfaulted, and infatuated.

And though, I long for that convulsed heave over and over, again and again, never I suspect shall I fall at the heels of her, never to feel her copper taste again, but oh the wont of it, and yet, I indulged in another, a blue eyed, blonde , who, was so far fetched, far flung, and a far removed lush to wit I no longer know why I did so, but, here we are again, flushed against a bare marble floor, panting, heaving, breath as nearly perniciously sweated as the day is long, dirty, and woe, for she called me the silk tongued liar that I am, lovely.

Infuriated, infatuated, I discovered someone I long thought gone, funny how the world works. somehow missing the boat, she was where I had been, talked with those I talked to, and then I left and then I returned, we passed each other like ships in the night, the world, too small, but I don't think I should have been surprised, I could have sworn I'd seen her, and then as it turns out, I did.

so, as they say, sleep with the enemy, drown as lust becomes a sepsis wound, and carouse with wanton abandon, always keeping on eye on the door, lest one becomes victim to ones own vices.

I am vice though, so tarry not too long, for I wilt in the sun