Musings from the Left Side

Short Stories & Poetry


Ripped Scabs

Electric air, a blank stare
Find me at perdition’s gate
In night’s ink black
Waiting to ensnare

Odorous noise, hypercritic poise
Eyes searching desire
In faces bland and feigning bored
These are not men but boys

Cowards all, minds so small
Will no one be my prey
To sedate this hunger
Time slips to a crawl

Phallic lead, internally dead
All you young dudes carry the news
Transparent is your lust
You have all been read

Seeking only to gratify, in what they objectify
I am only their fantasy
Existing only for their erotic need
That I have a soul they deny

Beyond your craving and misbehaving
More than flesh for your sedations
A heart beats fierce
Pounding blood and it is raving

For one seeing more, that I am not a whore
To stoke with gentle touch
Passions fiery heat
All I would give, for him I would adore

But let us true and honest be
I will never be more in their eyes
Than a masturbatory fantasy
I am the Dark Goddess and love is not for me

Theresa

Composite of Me and an image by Brom