by Barnaby Fell
If the tip of my toungue should
begin to betray me,
if soon to collapse is the
burning restraint in me,
pushed to admission by the
wines of my appetite
or, sweeter yet, by your
delicious intoxicant,
cover my mouth with you
lustrous laughter,
cover your ears to keep from
hearing my sick banter,
lest the lesser of two lives
be shown the better
in horribly naked and
cleverly ripped tatters
My nights should be made up of
basest compulsions,
but lately my dreams have fallen
prey to these emotions
I have no consent to feel,
reasons to think you will;
all the while the wickedness
in me will not sit still
Never mind anything that
I've ever told you,
I am now full of one thing-
desire to hold you
because only your lips
can somehow distract me
from my eternal torment-
The Dance With Futility