Every night the actor's lover sleeps with
A stranger.

Falling in and out of love,
Her hunger for danger.

Beneath her guilty garments,
virtue dies its natural death,
Imprisoned by curiosity
sated only by infinity...
               The cycle at its birth

Every day the lover's actor lives
A different life,

Someone less in full control, she could never love. Those flavors of men she adores,
carefully selected to suit her appetite's role.

Beneath pretentious cloaks and masks,
Enslaved by his own creation,
His own invention,
His Frankenstein stands perfectly still
In her eyes... As she opens the door.