clean hands.

you  
smother me in your blackest satire  
from the tarnished threads of your hair  
pull my resistance through the towers  
crumbling  
ever flaking  
in our darkest skies  
the lightening collides with my heart  
and the thunder stuns my soul  
with hunger  
i am tempted  
ever more by you  
 
you  
leave my body in your tower of cards  
and yet stretch my mind along the river  
with infinite pain bound hands and still running  
you never get your hands dirty  
make my body writhe with words so rich  
and impenetrable  
blinded by the early morning whiteness  
 
you  
you make me quiver just to remind me  
what it is like to be a good dog  
wistful pleasing the inside out hedgehog  
cover my eyes to leave the towers and picture freedom  
where not mere mind but body would sing  
among the bog and dirt and debris of our lust  
i am tempted  
ever more