What do you want?
You know what you want at your core, your deepest core, your basest desire.
You are just afraid to want it. Afraid to say it out loud. Afraid to defend your choice, maybe? Afraid to go for what feeds the roots of your desires.
Fear. You fear. You fear abandoning the rigidity of practicality. You fear wanton abandon, hedonism, feeding your primal mouth and hips and loins and lust.
You are a taker. Wait until someone stumbles along, who is capable, trainable, malleable, passionate enough to play, your games, your mess, your head.
Devour your moment, child. Do not let it pass unheeded. Fill your mouth with blasphemy, fill your heart with need, fill your hips with outward expression, join with your lover.
She had abandon. She waved it like a flag of defense; not all can embrace the kneeling, the bowing, the scraping to the god of the flesh.
# for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.