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I started at an early age
Just six years old and I can’t sleep
I need to my boredom assuage
So through mommy’s keyhole I peep.

And what a glorious event
Dad and mom wrestling on the bed
Odd how mommy’s body is bent
And how they collapse like they’re dead.

Thus my keyhole addiction starts
With the innocence of a child
And sometimes I’d see nasty parts
A bedroom circus that’s gone wild.

Finally I’m caught in my teens
I lie about my contact lens
But I knew, of course, what it means
I moved on to peeping at friends.

Excuses to spend time away
“Studying” nightly with a friend
The risk making better the pay
Keyholes — obsession and sick trend.

But it couldn’t last forever
And when stopped at a stranger’s hole
Though I am really quite clever
My habit had taken a toll.

There are no keyholes in prison
Where I’m sentenced to life times three
Questions have no doubt arisen
Why so long for a looky-see?

Well, I know well the circus act
Bouncing, bending then short of breath
Most people forget the impact
Of a finale crowned by death.

Many pairs I choreographed
With death the ultimate climax
Alas, God stared down and just laughed
No keyholes in jail level max.

January 8, 2919

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