Seduction so smooth as lust takes over.
Sentiment has no place; they just want to stretch her.
Spreading out together like they’re on a stretcher,
no love, no romance, when they’re together.
They aren’t saints, but they love her holy water.
A scarlet fever burns within her.
Her lust insatiable and thirst everlasting;
a tempest storm of vehement luxuria and exhilarating ardor.
The zeal is unlimited, yet the love is lacking.
She sees crimson and the lines begin to blur.
At first, it was a rare, occasional thing,
now it’s all the time, changing desires of a personal fling.
I just pray that she prays while she’s down on her knees.
Her desire consumes her, as her life looks carmine,
she’s tongue and cheek with her tongue and cheeks.
Living a life of lechery as a little red corvette in the streets.
Her overactive ambition is amaranthine and not so amazing.
The redness has overtaken the blue,
she is now lost without a clue,
senseless with no one left to do,
while her ruddy heart doesn’t beat true.

Every knee bowed on our neck
even when we’re right our tongue will confess
just to stay breathing.
Snakes in the grass that we’ll tread and hex that lays seething,
fake bleeding, just as a reason to decay our meaning.
The rage is heating but their passion for us stays freezing.
What’s next? Modern slavery is them open-carrying
weapons that prosper and officers that foster beatings.
Their face red as a lobster sneaking on someone black just to accost her.
Blue is the color of mobsters that fed lead
to someone innocent; she bled dead in her own ******* bed.
We could be doctors, seeking to uplift with our waters but instead,
we’re razed to the ground, wasting away in a plot
as we rot! Yet we wrought nothing in their haze.
Our offenses aren’t grave but we dance with dismay to our graves.

Only liars deny the ambition to go fishing
for what they want. The craving, the need, the haunting desires
only places you on a self-destructive and burning pyre.
You yearn for more, twisting on a mission,
wishing for the glistening gold of what you’re owed.
To move, to improve, on your flaunts
for yourself is such an everlearning taunt of wealth.
Well, when your well doesn’t get any higher
and the Sun’s hell ceases to tire,
emptiness befells the commission and buyer.
You’d sire more just to gain more,
but wouldn’t look towards your neighbors implore?
You would even bore through foreign floors
until it's all missing. Toes tucked and turning,
mouth foaming, you're an overzealous fiend for more earnings.
Your hives don’t die and you keep twitching.
Your heart keeps spinning the lies through your sleek grinning
and only the drive to buy is what keeps you alive.

You’re pushed aside and crying on repeat
with hushed lies sliding on the beat
of your hearkened heart.
You deny and deny the need to eat
with the compulsion to not buy
into the greed disguised as art.
You condemn the hate but can’t see the fake
staring back when you gaze into the lake.

Suppressed, depressed, much stress
on my chest, missing my breaths.
I frown as I drown and I’ve lost my crown,
so while I fall down I seem like a clown.
I’m the problem that I need to face
and I’ve been going at a non-existent pace.
So when my heart breaks,
does it make a sound?

Above the surface, wrath lays with reality
and doves are displaced by calamity.
Blood in my mouth, thoughts sprayed with profanity,
hugging anger in sight, when I face my vanity.
Nudged by neglect, hoping to stray from insanity,
I look to bud into the tenets of humanity.

I commend those who resist the immense desire
to liberate their anger as a friendly fire,
but with wrath, I could mend my pain.
My eyes come into nothing of vain
as this disdain leaves my bane stained.

My words fell on the deaf ears of my peers,
so when the smoke clears, I’m free from fears.
The isolation doesn’t feel foreign
so why feel for him? Why peel for him
fruit when he has no labor yet whims?
I'll take my broken heart by the hems,
a heart that lives apart, with lights dimmed,
and make it harder without barter as I’m born again.