Saturday, April 21, 2012

The Disorder

The Disorder

I have tried to file you away
in a structured compartment,
but your ample bosom
refuses to yield to my restrictions.

I have tried to pin you deep
within the recessions of consciousness,
but your mahogany lips
reveal a talented tongue,
which habitually bribes for release

I have tried to relinquish you,
                --to banish you,
but you skirt along the perimeter
of my realm in that skirt…
--oh my, your skirt that
--comes up to your bountiful mystery
--and easily comes off in my imagination
you know the hedonistic effect,
how your cinnamon-rolled,
sticky-bunned visage affects me,
which is why you linger in my field of view,
flirting with my sense of reason
mocking my sense of structure
testing my resolve in all its rigidity
daring me to take but a single bite

I cannot contain or consume you,
yet you effortlessly
confine and devour me from within

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