Lust how I loathe though. I ache and pain for the taste of your sweet syringe that sinks into my veins. My reptilian brain knows nothing of logic or sequence, or the understanding of anything when I see you. All I can do is breath faster, think slower, and want more. The hunger that bellows from the bottom of my belly, and needs to be satisfied in that very moment makes for a stupendous occasion. But we can't all have what we want, and we can't all do as we please. I must hit your hand like a misbehaved child, and tell you that you cannot control my movements, or overtake my thoughts, because if I give you omnipotence over my actions then I am just a slave to your immorality. A child who choses to play your game.
Hedonism you thoughtless whore. You make me crave pleasure and seek thrills. But you are the simplest of beings that most of us cannot tame. The basic concept of utility draws itself thin as we choose to abuse you more and more. Pleasures are only pleasures when they are given and gotten in moderation. But you constantly ask me for more and trick me into thinking that you are a limitless and devout temptress that will never stop giving. Oh, how wrong I am, and how wrong I continue to be. Once bitten, twice shy applies not.
Exhaustion you consequential bitch. This is what I feel once the lust has worn me down and the hedonism has sunk its venom through my circuitry. I no longer feel ready or adept. I no longer know thick from thin, long from short, or me from you. Enter the haze.
So when I see you, and set my eyes so thunderously across the perfection that you are, I ask the gods to give me discernment, and allow me patience, to approach slowly, to touch gently, and to love longingly.