Lust: a timely topic for the rest of this year, not just for the month of February. In this ‘essay’, unfinished and unpolished, I have a few things to say. Some are said in rhyme.
What’s the crime?
Lust, goes well with sexual desire, but keep that from a man and you’ve just lit a fire. With every denial henceforth you’ll just be stoking the flames, raking the coals, preparing a nice hot inferno–right under your ass! And the funny thing is, you’re not to blame!*
But don’t tell him that. He’ll call you a liar.
Repressed sexuality seeks release in power, just the right size for a pair of small hands. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, but what if the grape was already sour? The apple pre-rotted?
His demands for fairness and equality sound sweet, but beneath the veil he’s not quite well in the head. Power is not enough. But what could possibly fill the void?
When is a man without a soul not like a gaping hole?
Maybe when he cuts a hole where his heart should be, and fills it full of feces, maybe then he’ll be a real boy. If there is a heart underneath that cold exterior we could kick it around like a football, treat it like a child’s toy! How drole that would be!
Who said we were any better than our fellow citizens? We’re monsters, built from children’s teeth; parading about in our human suits. You’re so close to us you should be burning.
If that, my friend, is not a show of real power, then I’ve got little else to say . . .
*As if you could force someone to feel something. If you could they wouldn’t be screaming. You would. At them. And they’d be the ones feeling sorry for themselves!