Into your lair,
I willfully stride,
as a moth,
to your eternal flame.
The heat of your glistening eyes
excites my animal senses,
though I should depart and flee
not knowing why.....
I feel your passion binding us,
my mind and soul,
blinded and gagged,
with remorseful suffocation....
Your hell returns to this slave,
its masochistic gratification...
March 2000, "S.T." Interview sections you may visit (click)
Other poetry by "S.T."