Lust in 3 Acts

Act I

The fever hit quickly, it always did.
His lust compelled brought her to him

wrapped in a rug, sans a compass to
moor within her, astounded by the song
that played off her pelvis with his semen.

He swooned, taking her into himself,
wanting it completely, his third eye in
orbit seeing nothing else,

needing nothing more, and famished for
everything: to pine as if pining was lust.


Act II

An open window lent inwards to the weep of
a violin playing once through and never again.

The talent of his consumption for her, for a
heartbeat, a virginal moment, not to question,
with mind at rest and body floating in denial.

The lure of a dark cry, he could not turn to her
nor could he let go, this perversion, where
air thins till there's none


Act III

Trembling at the mercy of his lover, there was
no grace, and none sought.

Orgasmic words and thoughts, erotic intellect
flowing, anonymous art.

His fingers tight within the leaking chink to
staunch the flow but never tries.

The irony of how it ends was not lost, drawing out
more than one could fathom.


© 2015 Jade Pandora