Peeking At Pleasures

He builds a haunted house for himself warding away any feeble light to seep into the rooms, welcomes night as time creeps like a sluggish bludgeon. He finds no joy chasing silk dresses as they shimmer like butterfly wings with skill he resists the temptation to peek at pleasures in mock moonlight. Emotions reside not on his face complex or contradictory, they are locked away in some sanctuary far beneath the surface of his mind. He nurses a hollow dread daybreak will find him facing grim certainty transcending over worse things that come to prey on him, not to be undone. @jjote 062921