Desire
is a butterfly with crumpled wings
 tangled in a web struggling attached. 
 With each twist and every turn 
 strangle hold tightens.
A hungry spider watches...
 waiting.
 Desire is a big gaping hole
 with fangs like a vampire 
 and vice like jaws firmly clamped
 that draws life blood
 down the 
 drain. 
 Desire is a burning itch 
 that doesn't go away.
 Flames lick like lovers in heat 
 and passion bug bites,
 red, swollen and inflamed
 infest body and soul.
 Scratch harder. Bite more. 
 Suck the juice out of us. 
 You whore. 
 We're blistering with disease
 that you gave us.
 Insidious trap. Ingenious trap. 
 Amazing how you trick us
 into believing that you are the
cure
 to make it go away.
 Stick sticky we stick, immobilized,
 we are flies on a floor 
 covered with emotional glue.
 Do we bother struggling to break
free?
 Or simply wait for release 
 in the guise of death.
 I suppose I may stick around for
awhile...
 It seems less futile.
 Oh bitter sweet Desire
 I love you too much to respond.
 Let's be silent together in a still
mist of truce
 resting peacefully, fulfilled in
each other .
 I want nothing.                                                                           
© 1999 by David Bozzi  |