I want to make your choice and I can pay
for any damage to your skin or lungs.
There is responsibility that comes
from being both the predator and prey.
Dissected, disembowelled, and on display,
I try to shout but find my throat is numb.
You see, nostalgia's wasted on the young
and when the urges take me, I obey.
Abstinence is fine – if that's your thing –
but artificial virtue is eclipsed
by inclination. As she softly sings
I'll pass corruption on, through moistened lips.
Quitting lust is best (if done by stealth)
for healing all my wounds, but not myself.