Decadence
We find solace in silent solitude.
Times are hard, revenge is sweet.
We lay our sins about your feet,
for what is sin without platitude?
After all, our molt so indiscrete
of one’s outer self to interlude
of decadent self indulgent attitude
in plain view of casuals we meet.
Laughingly feed those on the street
caterwauling of the vicissitudes,
to admit the two of us too crude
in our desire, to suppress the seat
of abnormality in our tete a tete.
© Feb 2012 Charles Henderson
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