by Andrew Purcell and Chris Tandlmayer
A Rake's Candor
Because I hate the things that get me off --
The thought of fucking on the bathroom floor,
And between her legs feasting from the trough,
To make her protests slip to sobs for more;
Knowing that by the morning she'll deplore
The scandal which has left her in this state,
No longer pure and lovely, just a whore.
Guilt will possess me too, but first must wait
To come, until I do, then fill with hate
My soul, now half an angel, half a lout.
Loathing the appetite I always sate,
And scraping my skull from the inside out,
I rasp my bones trying to understand:
Both lechery and grace in my command.
Copyright 2003 A. Purcell & C. Tandlmayer
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