Mr. Sly


Mr. Sly, your master plan congealed;

the thrill of playing the two-tier game

is a flaring, formidable forcefield,

are gruesome goosebumps hard to tame

that fixate instinct on this path

to take advantage of your prey

(by all means but studious).


What plays back in the subconscious

must be ethical nothingness,

even more so affectionate weariness.

Is there chance to repent your habit

or continue as a confident, sexual maverick?



Love how raw this poem is. One of my favorites.

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