Pleasure
It stares, deep into the soul, pleasure principle is not benign;
“please grant me thy wish” outbids the same-self sadist ideal,
stories reveal only in time, words outbid each other, crimson tides
wash over the cheek; meek we are in the face of temptation, in the cosmos, among stardom; the grand chiefs remind us, we are free.
Temptation is privy to subjectivity also, the spine twists,
accommodates money-buyer syndrome, the spine twists,
accommodates position; bedroom, classroom, relentless chairs,
sitting under Gogh’s starry night,
the spine twists and leans forth; the body relentless to pursue the mind;
pursuant to whims of desire, we are pursuant to the whims of our desire.
Golden-ruby freckles speculate the nature of existence,
while caffeine runneth forth the seedlings of our persistence,
runneth forth, how far you’ve come; it is all in the pleasing of one,
grant me thy wish lick my tender sweet; the devil she,
conjuring wicked spells, infinity, let thy fall be, it shall be,
let it be.
