Perfect

My conscience engages me;
I revolve icons of you randomly in my mind.
I become excited; ashamed of my disgusting self.
The coarse and iniquitous things I wish to do!
Why must my organic control me so?

In my mind; dresses cloak your beauty no more.
I herald the creative brilliance of your female frame.
Not a single detail was omitted.
Your dimensions sculptured without blemish.

I face the dark still night were respite eludes me.
Fascinating imagery of you toils through my excruciated mind.
My body is in starvation.

I toss-and-turn, curse the sleep that fails me.
I stare at the blank walls across which you are gliding.

I know this is not love… just a man lusting after perfect flesh!
By : Thys Groesbeek