Reader

Did you say words turn you on?

Or, was it - what was the term -

verbal lust?

Has the ash turned to dust?

Have the orgasmic doors of indifference

closed itself down?

Revealing incessant waves of ecstacy,

lashing against your soul,

simulating your inner you?

And in those forlorn waves

is it solitude that you seek?

Don't blame me.

I write with a finger on my mind,

not on the pandora's box

of insecurities and trauma

that the world has to offer.

Under all the formatting,

I am the one who is lusting,

for self-identification and a lot of

other things that I don't

have a word for.

So Reader,

if you must continue to read,

my advice,

would be to stick to your carnal pleasures,

to the high heels, the vibrant shades

of that puckerish lipstick

to the desserts, and the social media

to the voluptuous malls,

and the promiscuous cinemas.

Leave it to me,

to do what I do best.

Self is where the soul is,

so don't bother with the search.

There is no inner me.

There never was....