… and you let no one love you,
In spite of your mind's protests,
Feelings voided, heart riddled.
Bathroom mergers of lust versus
Times of flowers and no parture.
…my, a man of manners numerous,
Yet, morals few takes on perpetuity.
Deleting memories of the past,
Purging sinful wits of the precedent,
In elder versus child form of summit.
- Who made your cry, baby?
- Where does it hurt?
- Your mama and papa didn't tell you?
- You have to stop doing to yourself.
Cry to sobbing, tears to salt.
- Already better… at least for now, old man whispers.
… and you let no one hurt you,
Keeping your brain in form athletic.
Feelings spared, heart at its beat best.
Rooftop phony unions of lecherousness
Win over senses and pains authentic.
Love imitated. Yet, game is still on.
Round two – lust versus last contest.