The man in the three piece suit
knocked on my door again,
coming to collect my mind,
sucking it through me by reading my papers
and asking me for more.
My hunger for intimacy grows,
to forget the blinding passion
and concentrate on my body, its every curve.
Will he listen to my fantasies?
Will he only read my words for perverted pleasures
while asking me for more.
I need realitites to feed my imagination,
something for my mind to feast upon
and regurgitate through pen and paper.
My heart bleeds through blue ink
and eyes race to comprehend my own words.
Please understand this is my job,
My perversities are mere words,
no actions of the flesh
so don't take me for more.