A stare down at the knob of brass
A door of silver
The darkness that lurks behind it
of the evil unknown
Virgin loins waiting to rob the soul of man
Vanity
Tainted in gold & all it’s glory
Sparkling glare of dirt
of eternity in ruins
Disguised as pleasure
Leisure measures
Tailored for human wit
of borderline divinity
of maladies & insanities
Cushioned & levered on a lump of flesh
So divinely moulded
To appease to your loins
With a mind of it’s own
Wiggly & twisty
Making itself an heir
From whence your end would come
So, gather round this circus
And make your poison of choice
Stale ale? or the purgatory cocktail?
Either ways , your soul is ours
WeirdmaskmanNG āš½
WeirdmaskmanNG āš½
Pleasure! The pursuit of pleasure blunts common sense. It flattens the sense of reasoning. That’s why we mess around and get hit by ‘post-n%t clarity’ š
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Why are we drawn towards sources of danger to ourselves despite forewarned knowledge.
Is it inevitable?
Are we on a never-ending quest to bring about our own doom?
Splendid sir šš
Is this an allegory about the temptations of life pulling us into the abyss?
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