Fakeness of abyss

 

Prolonging fakeness of abyss

That wasn’t easily created,

A kiss from lover outdated, emotion simply elevated,

Created on a hit or miss.

A tease of wind that stroked your face,

A drop of rain that wet your hair,

Or lying bare on the floor,

Exclaiming ‘Stop!’ but wanting more,

Convulsing and inviting daze.

The burn of rug, the thirst from sun,

The hunger of the afternoon lovemaking.

The taking of the one you want.

Avoid alternative or don’t.

Forgive the pun, the rub and tug

Replaces 3s with paired Aces.

Or maybe night will never fall

Upon the lovers in the moment.

The hidden dormant needless comment,

Not compliment, nor for the sake of goal,

Remains in thoughts as playing role

Of careless indulging bodies.

A melody will stroke a heart.

Enchanted dream will sooth a moment.

Like torment, like a fair shawl

Will play its part, admit no fault,

Retreat into its own reprieve.

A gift of touch, the screams and moans

Emerging from a play in corners

Where mourners fest on dreams galore,

Where bones from feast are smooth from gloating.

And then no more will greed be welcomed,

And then leftovers will be sold

To highest bidder. As he told the crowds

That he is their savior.

And whore becomes your star abyss.

And lonely people follow slowly.

Their lowly aspirations die.

You try to change. You lie and pry.

You change the rules of the engagement.

And still you lose. Your dream, your muse

Betrays your trust. Your goals are none.

Forget the plan to conquer nations.

Your skills will overcome sensations.

Your options are no longer vast.

Again, promiscuous returns

Become a part of daily troubles,

But with a purpose. What a ruse

To be pretentious fun and loose,

Hide all your scars, and wounds, and burns,

Pop all your bubbles, but pretend

To be offended by your methods.

Clean up your act. Refuse your ways.

Forget the chase for all that sparkles.

Yet, the reality dictates you like to treat all of your dates

To burst of you. No one awaits till second date unless they’re boring.

So, back to turning sex to love. And back to being free and lonesome.

Or maybe not. Just bring your all.

A play so fair, fun and strong,

Objectifying self through song,

A serenade of constant lovers.