Cold sharp blades tipped her fingers
double-edged razor her tongue
Cut thru mediocrity and status quo
To entice the rogue of heart
From the middle of his
common, safe road.
She beckons with one crookd finger
Gloved at first so as not to scare
Her red lips dripping with
to the first lived and the unknowing damned.
She has him when he veers off course
to the edge of the pavement
subtle movements quick and accurate
her touch on his sleeve is innocent
to only those who
wish to see it so.
She bathed in perfumes
of distant places
some existing, some no more
to cover the tang of human blood
and sin and freedom-
the scent of freedom scares more
than the scent of eternal death...
the scent of life well lived and pleasure
is more repugnant to
slaves than burning flesh...
So she hides in gardens
of his own making
delusions and tales he tells himself
to justify his junket
and his own lying heart.
Once she touches his flesh he is lost
her caresses bring such
wicked dreams and stark passions
that he forgets who he was
and only wants to be who he is!
Another Xtian bites the dust!
Another Child grows up!
Another Captive is set free!
Seduced by the wicked caress