This life

Echoes relentlessly,
a haunting reminder
of the void that lingers
in the depths of my desire.

You, skilled in the carnal arts,
cannot mend my broken soul,
for the silence breeds a frenzy,
a tempest in my core.

It feels like a raw seduction,
like teeth sinking into skin,
like whispers of wicked pleasure
concealed beneath the dark.

Anxiety, insecurity, fear,
they dance within my being,
unwelcome guests that linger,
playing their cruel games.

But I refuse to be their puppet,
to succumb to their cruel hold.
I'll slay their wicked roots,
so they can no longer hurt.

For I have endured this life,
this existence of wasted breath,
to be enslaved by nothing,
to be devoured by no fear.

You, maestro of seduction,
carve worlds with your touch,
but time remains fleeting,
a relentless adversary.

And the silence, it beckons,
with its tempting, wicked call,
urging us to seize the moments,
to indulge in passion's thrall.