Her way to stay sane.
Her way to become mad.
Her way to inspire.
Her way to remove the plain.
She is the seductive curve posing in a devil’s empowering dress.
The manners of a full-lipped villain.
When she dips on bent knee, to confess.
Whilst dangling on the threads of word.
She brushes my skin.
With contemplation’s I had never heard.
Here and there…
no relief from indifference among the solitary prison besetting a mind.
I cannot leave.
Nor, do I want to.
I am suited
by leaving the outside world behind.
As for mother Eve – I wasn’t there and can’t deny the story, but I will say this. If she brought evil into the world, the men have had the lion’s share of keeping it going ever since. I feel like an inadequate machine, a machine that breaks down at crucial moments, grinds to a dreadful hault, ‘won’t go,’ or, even worse, explodes in some innocent person’s face
That’s when the music started I heard the light switch click I stumbled on a lost shoe The fever’s starting This man was getting hot I got no strength to make him stop I guess it’s too late But I’ll know next time To mix some water with the wine