Peeking Through the Keyhole

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