The heartburn of a hedonist

bloody hands

In a world of wide open spaces,

And boundless freedom,

I am enslaved to foolish fantasies

Swimming in red wine

Trapped in a bottle.

 

A hedonist and a rebel,

My hair knows no authority,

Entangled in the fingers

Of a thousand lovers,

Invading bars and motel rooms,

Dancing wildly in the streets for thrills…

 

Yet all I long for,

Is to find sanctuary

In you.

 

The artist in me loves the architecture,

The political activist in me despises the oppression

Through which, such splendor was created

Built brick by brick

Upon glistening backs,

Marked with red stripes

Broken.

 

Isn’t it funny,

How we all get off

To the sting of whips,

And the confines of chains.

 

Acid churns in my belly,

My racing heart bleeds fire,

My hands are stained

I am guilty

Of selfish whims

And destructive indulgences

Notice me,

Love me…

Lest I hold entire cities hostage.

 

Give me your eyes,

A gateway to the secret garden

Of your mind

Where I may plant visual memories

Burning with an eternal flame

Taunting you,

With recurring persistence,

To madness.

 

Give me your lips,

So that I may forever wear them around my neck,

And savor the warmth of your breath,

As I drown in all your kisses…

Laced with betrayal.

 

Tragically,

History with you will never be made,

Even though it feels like I have loved you

With all the love,

Of a thousand lifetimes.

– The day Notre Dame burned

2 thoughts on “The heartburn of a hedonist

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