Cenowhore

Your flesh is cold
Willing
The alabaster tones
Belie your animation

Wanton
Your internal needs
Exposed

Your eyes stitched
Not blinded
Your pallid hands
Caress the truth

Leather and wire
Your materials of choice
They clothe you well
They reveal by concealing

Black tongue
Lascivious by nature
Probes beneath my flesh

Your beauty
Is terror
As all mortal men know

So

Do I yield
Or do I fight it
And increase the pleasure

© 2006, Mosquitobyte