Innocence

Draped in a gossamer, sheer shroud,
blinding to light and any feature
upon the walls groped with fingers,
consumed by the lust to feel,
doesn’t matter they belong to somebody else.

Mind is the translator of the hands,
fire spreads its hunger throughout the body,
need burns in the head as a demon tongue,
insatiable palate can never be appeased.

But it all has a logic that seems sublime,
wantonly taking whatever is craved,
happily inventing explanations
while avowed in the desire
this is survival and never wrong,
content to dwell in the haze of foggy innocence
where guilt hides and easily forgotten.

The hollow in the heart digs a hole
one can never fill,
always stalking that next meal,
even when the stomach isn’t starving,
becomes a game you can’t win,
while blissfully hunting for another snack.

Skeletons of those picked cleaned
left to bleached in the sun
because too busy chasing next possession
to dwell upon the carnage strewn
along the path.

It is a spell that never ends
only spread like a cancer
until you become the last victim
of your passions.