The kind of girl who saw through eyes of seduction and spoke through lips of desire.
You had no idea who this girl was, yet you wanted the scent of her skin to penetrate your entire being.
This happened ever so often, but this time, you were not prepared.

You study the movement of her lips as she pronounces her every syllable.
Helpless, you notice the curl in her eyelashes and the swirls of color in her eye.
Her laughter intends innocence, but you understand her more than anyone.

You play her like the keys of a piano.
You take everything from her, and she enjoys it.
You knew she was the kind of girl who kept her secrets.
The kind of girl whose touch was filled with lust and whose kiss overflowed with passion.
You had no idea who this girl was, yet you wanted her every thought to enter your mind and body.
This happened ever so often, but this time, you were not prepared.

A faint light falls onto her soft hair as you observe the various shades of colors it contains.
Enticed, you notice the intricate pattern of freckles on her skin and the pastel tone of her skin.
Her words express virtue, but you understand her more than anyone.

You play her like the strings of a violin.
She gives you everything, and you enjoy it.
You knew she was the kind of girl who kept her secrets.
The kind of girl whose delicate clothes hid audacious undergarments and high strung corsets.
You had no idea who this girl was, yet you wanted her every particle to be yours.
This happened ever so often, but this time, you were not prepared.
She was the type of girl who kept her secrets.

If lust we’d fight, morals would be contrite.

If night was light, darkness would be right.

My soul you excite with the words you ignite.

If thoughts I incite, your mind I rewrite.

What sweet desire, I conspire.

Your fingers through my hair, such a rush I can’t compare.

A touch light as air, it’s control I want to impair.

I kiss you in despair, as my attraction I declare.

A certain flare, what an amorous affair.

What sweet desire, I conspire.

In delightful degradation, we practice this flirtation.

In defining temptation, we begin the translation.

In sensation, we find our sedation.

In moderation, we continue exploration.

What sweet desire, I conspire.

The taste was poison in her mouth, yet it was this she never fought.

Let’s stare into the sun and hold our tongues to the soft sound of yearning.

Its you and me we’re learning.

My mind a maze, your eyes will gaze.

The pursuit is key, resistance unnecessary.

Hands penetrate skin, it’s my beauty from within.

A thousand kisses deep, it’s your soul that wants to speak.

My touch never one to keep, your words never one to sleep.

Diagnose this heart of mine, your mind I would intertwine.

Falling vine, our passion was a crime.

Rising line, our taste was that of wine.

There was a certain satisfaction in loosing all meaning and thought.

The taste was poison in her mouth, yet it was this she never fought.

Lust contemplated her answer as she listened to the sound of the food crushing in her mouth.

“I think its a contemporary lack of self control. We refuse to deny our true beings. We realize that we are animals, and that the predator will always seek its prey. Murder is a feeling, and so is rage and happiness. You and I do not separate the three among them. You see just as much beauty in a painting as you see in a dry corpse. I see just as much beauty in the first breath of a child, as I see in the last breath of a victim. It’s in all of us, we are just the ones who choose to unleash it.”

Vinnie took a deep breath. He had to control himself from ravishing her right then and there.

“You’re somethin’ else you know.”, he spoke in a muffled tone so she would not hear the desire in his voice.

She smirked as he turned his back and remembered that one night where his self control was not as ingrained as it was today.

The sound of the gloves snapping on his hands awoke her from the entrancing day dream. She watched as he dug his hands into the bubble of fat that laid on the examination table and thought,
“Those same hands have been all over me.”

He threw the over-sized liver into the weighing bin and began humming an old french song as if he was in a welcoming cafe, not a cold and sinister morgue.

This is what Lust enjoyed about him.
He too saw the beauty and the macabre elegance of being elbow deep in things most people fainted only thinking of.

They were both the anomalies.

The rejected elite.

She continued to elaborate her theory. Knowing full well that she would reel him in with her every word.

“You see my dear, it is like a beast. Most choose to contain this beast, deep into the cages of the soul. We choose to let it breathe. We choose to let it roam free. A calm creature that feeds only ever so often. The others harness it, and just as any encased beast does, it tears at the walls of its confinement. The struggle translates into curiosity and soon the people find it harder and harder to deny the fervor. That is when you hear the bimbos on TV say:

“A middle aged man was arrested today and is being investigated in the murders of three women. Friends of the suspect say that the event was completely out of character and that they would have never expected a good man like him to commit such horrendous crimes.”

And so you see my sweet pea, they burn the candle at both ends until the cage no longer holds and the beast no longer folds.
We are the lucky ones. We are made of flesh and the omnipresent talent to allow ourselves to be the creatures we truly are. The predator will always seek its prey.”

He unbuckled his belt and she knew her words had reached their goal.

The predator will always seek its prey.

Is it life that inspires imagination, or imagination that inspires life?

The uncommons were at fault for the many times they told fallace stories of redemption.

As if white transferred to color, her desire rose again.

Their hands melted into one and other.

Death come to the one who declares that energy does not flow lavishly.

Senses heightened and falling embraces, for a moment, their dance seemed suitable.

The darkness of night bared witness to their ritual, and their burdensome mania would bring them to certain demise.