Perfection Deception

Lips of red

A sinful smirk

And eyes of the serpent

Tongue of silver

A river of tears in your path

A lover of jealous wrath

With a lustful fever

Of a sinner who’ll never repent

You always know what will work

To get them in your bed


Finger wrapped

They fall for your pretty lies

And the softness of your sighs

As they worship between your thighs trapped


Seeking ambrosia in the folds of pink flesh

And tasting the golden fruit fresh

With delightful glee

Unaware of the damage done

Without care of what you are about to be

If they only knew they would run


Your the wolf at the door

Scratching to get in

You’re a woman and more

The fifth horseman of the apocalypse

Honey dipped in sin

And still the last taste on every lovers lips



Haven’t seen the sun

Not for days

Haven’t spoken a word

Where any could hear

Solitude and gratitude

Going hand in hand

With the wisdom of the maze


Hope is not gone

Only the faint glimmer

Of the sword

Held by the fear

That strips you nude

A soul laid bare there you stand

As you remember


No scripture can give guidance

Only the craving

No means of sustenance

To the hunger you’re slaving

The hunger for life

The hunger for joy

Yet you know only strife

And are the puppeteer’s toy

Table For Three(from the old blog)

Table bound
Bent over and exposed
No escape
Perfect victim for a mental rape
So many holes to fill
All against your will
This is the fate you chose
This is your new reality
Blindfolded and mouth held wide
There’s nothing you can hide
Your body betrays your lust
As you give away your trust
Moaning is the only sound
You’ll hear
It’ll be coming from you in actuality
The bound little whore
Who if could speak would beg for more
The willing slut
The perfect piece of meat
For your Dominant’s desire
They will take that cherry
On your face they’ll nut
Leaving you frustrating in pleasure filled fire
You’re such a sweet treat
You’ll never know who
Fucked you like the virgin Mary
Though I’m sure they’ll never let you forget
It was you that wanted it, begged for it

The garden

​In the end

There was no sin

For every vice was free

As the virtuous paid no heed

To the darkness they had within

For its light did grow

From the tiny seed 

That a garden of thorns would bloom

And in a forgotten room

With a locked door

There upon its dusty floor

Did the faithless knees bend

Not to praise

Or to give hope a raise

But to suckle nectar from the thorny garden

And its sweet bitterness 

The melancholy madness 

That life created

As if it was always fated