FaLsE sOnNeT(27. November 2007)
Your skin is salvation from prone piety,
Your lips, lewd buskers on the edge of society
Night for Night I beg and pray
For release from your fervent sways.
Your hands are fetters that shackle my pride,
Your hip a filthy forbiddance that enjoins my stride
Day for Day I moan and wail
Scourged, it is my own foul fail.
Your chest is prison that frees the damned,
Your eyes the demos that lust for the tamed
Thaw in Twilight has me freeze and linger
Wondering what it is about your coaxing fingers.
Dusk is soaring on tormented grey quills,
Joining with you and breaking the rest of my will.