Shakey Bones (a poem by Jack)

She gets off on being the object of desire..

So many slain hearts and shaky bones remain stuffed in various closets…

Who am I to think I’d be any different?
Son of God or son of man.. I’m but another victim of her wicked iniquities..which are mere habits that feed the neon demon…
To think love would save me.. To think love would set me free.. love did nothing but reveal truths..

Truth is she’s never loved anyone but herself.. She adores the attention.. She lives for adoration.. She’s addicted to the loyalty..

The neon demon exuberates from her havoc… Her listful lips seal the demise of her victims…

And when your well runs dry… She’ll drink the trickle of another…

Which leaves me.. Scared.. Lonely.. Thirsty.. Even though my well runs deep..

And as deep as my well runs how can I blame her for quenching the demons thirst..

When My heart knows no mercy, and has drunk from the well of so many without so much as to replenishing a drop.. so I understand her ways… 


How can I ask of another…to love unconditionally…when my love is just as shallow…

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