Love not the taint of ladies of the night.
Their barren hearts intoxicate the
purest of faces, drowning courage
behind the lusts of false need.

Love not the corruption of the wages.
In life, desired.  In truth... a downfall
of the senses,  burdened by a murky
wave of greed and always more.

Love not the insistence of the glory.
A hollow shape. Not hallowed as some
believe,  but bereft.  Lacking a centre
of moral. A judgemental state of fear.

Remain empty. Remain a jug to be filled.
A *** to be planted. A trough to be doused
with nourishing, life giving water.
A dark room waiting for a single torch.

Remain chained. Remain imprisoned.
Become yourself in ******* then live
free of the lack of uncontrolled self tyranny.
Become yourself. No chains. A truth of life.