Like A Moth To A Flame II

Like a moth to a flame,

my skin wishes for pleasure,

while my heart follows a road to its end...

that in its wistful steps, it might save itself from the blame of my sin‐

as all it sees, the inside of a prison

and all it seeks, the termination of this tormentous game‐

if not in a flame, then maybe in a flood.

~

Like any fatal attraction,

my flesh collects scars to burn in its desire,

while my heart dives into the nearest body of water...

knowing that it can't swim‐

that maybe, under the measure of the waves it may see at the bottom, a bed

as it is not treasure this vessel seeks‐

may the blood that leaves it on its way down turn the color of this sea to red.

~

As in any dangerous wish,

the members of my body let sin hold them down in the fires of desire that they might enjoy the bliss of death,

at the same time my heart, begs the ocean to take hold of it in trade for its breath...

they race to the same destination, each in their own temptation‐

the sensation of the former, and the chase the latter engages in

are both on their way to cessation

to the chagrin of first, and to the relief of the second.

~

Like a moth to a flame,

I am attracted to death, and all of its faces‐

between the taste of sin, and sight of escape,

the places they lead are actually one and the same...

and this race, between the different parts of me,

will only lead to the end of the both of them‐

if not in a flame, then in a flood.

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