Your fingers, they must be
heavy.
All are wrapped
a r o u n d.
Twisted
in the fiction.
Coil them up,
your extremities.
Your wicked
smirk
stretched sinfully.
Drowning in your persuasions,
detached at
your
leisure.
Heavy
is your mind as your alibi
unravels.
Heavy
is your conspiracy lying on your
shoulders.
Perhaps conquer one more before
your
trap
runs
thin.
Detached at
their
leisure
now.
Fleeing and freeing
themselves.
Just making room for another
batch of
victims.
Falling and following
One just as silly as
the next.
To get
twisted
in the fiction.
Your sick fantasy.
Your
wicked
smile
staying sinfully stretched.
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