Basking in guilty pleasures.
Mind flourishes with indulgence.
Sexual not sexual.
Flutters across mind’s eye.
A brush meeting canvas.
Painting pictures of unrealities.
Forbidden dreams.
Do you call them guilty pleasures?
A bar of chocolate.
Another adultery?
All the same.
Murderous act: retribution or abomination?
Lucifer in a sky with demons?
How can I see emeralds?
How do I see rubies?
How to break free of these diamonds?
I look to guilty pleasures.
I look to simple pleasures.
I look to innocent pleasures.
None suit my purpose;
break free from moral conquest.
Show gifts to yourself,
still they never do.
Why?
Because, they never embrace,
Themselves…
Dark places,
guilty places,
obscured by lies.
Afraid…
Better to show common face to
the adoring public;
self-loathing is a private matter.
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