Exposed

And so—
These black lines here 
are mosaic pieces from the profanely beautiful
Masterpiece every artist crumples
In his pocket.  
Smiling subtly, scandalously amused,
My polished fingernails 
Rake it's edge, 
It's that one, utterly shameful. 
That's what this is—
My own manifestation 
of something terribly pleasurable,
My confession of the dirty lungs
Encased beneath my elegant tie.
Something so appealing—
A billboard that kindles the rage of 
Respectable parents.  Disgraceful yet satisfying.
And oh, how I wish I felt guilty!
But no, I want more, more of this,
Because it's distastefully delicious, 
Mmmm
More
Ineffably alluring.
More
images…. Enthralling …
Mmmm, 
Hot, inviting 
provoking…

You’re smoldering now,
You looked up just once to imagine it
In the dark, spiraling screen of your mind. 
A quick glance over your shoulder,
Pupils dilated like an eclipsed sun on the iris
Of your eyes.
Perhaps you stopped reading, I’d respect you if you did. But you’re still here—
Eating yourself away, consuming 
Like the mouth of the devil 
You befriended at birth. 
It fills your head and 
You love it. 
And you can't look away even when your mama
Tells you so because if she read this,
Both of you would sit side by side
In unspoken, red faced naughtiness.

And yet I have not said anything at all,
No object, no suggestion, no idea.
Oh look! I've outwitted you, tricked you into 
gazing at the honest mirror of your own
ghastly soul.
But it's a secret, don't tell.
Because you are my 
Profanely 
Beautiful 
Masterpiece.