I like wine with age

that is robustly thick.

I like dulled nerves;

pain flys away quick.

The joy of life is rife,

teaches I’m just a beast.

It makes me a pupil to

see what I must defeat.

Joy can be primative

with all it’s charm full.

I like to think lechery

and can act as a fool.

Aged, sensuality passes.

I howl at the moon, rust.

For I have learned time

tarnishes desire’s lust.

What is beautiful now

with age will stretch

skin and will wrinkle

eyes, curves and necks.

I search for more upon

the surface upon earth.

I see beauty is sensual

but deeper I will search.

Free goes the minion I

was so long ago in youth.

When I’m laying catatonic,

I want to feel the truth.

I do not know if a God

sets things into motion.

So I’ll live as if death is

a finale for my devotion.

I see you bare calling me

to take up a bond of touch.

I see you there and I see

I don’t care much for lust.