Egyptian Cotton Gold

Inside my mind is a whisper saying to me “Do the deed and come and see what needs To be seen. What does that mean? I ask my self as Egyptian cotton rubbing up against My skin is this a sin why would I even not dare to give in .Like a snake in the garden. He’s the enabler dare to mistake him for a savior and fall into his bad behavior. I sleep to keep from being weak, keep gold at my feet to keep from being meek. Is it wrong to want to reign like a Greek, rush in like a creak, sneak to where I peek? My satisfaction needs to be everlasting, my mind never grasping what my conscience seems to be asking. My subversive ability offers no mercy
Or humility I shall have whatever I want no need for stability.

poem about excess