Waking up after 10,
or sometimes noon, I
contemplate a lifetime filled with lust…
and not each imaginable consequence.
What a frigid and lonesome house I am,
150-something lbs. of glass and grey matter.
Heading to the kitchen,
some ungodly nourishment is calling.
What is the poison of choice in this hour?
No importance… there are sexier reapers headed this way.
As I sit down to do these words justice,
I ask a new million dollar question:
Will I maintain the passion today,
or will “passion” get in the way?
Silly sir… the answer is fixed.