Idle Hands
Mine hands
Sinful tools possessed
Dance along the periphery
Of thy intimate domain
Touching and probing
With subtle
Perverse persuasions
Caressing thy sweet softness
With course and brutal desires
Has thou the courage
Within thy soul
For acceptance of such
And grant admittance
Into thy Forbidden garden
Or shall these hands
Be bound and left idle
Their tools left to rust
From the tears
Of mine intimate frustrations
Copyright © Thomas King | Year Posted 2015
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