Sweet Sexteen
I saw evil last night,
evil in the form of a sweet fleshed beauty,
evil in the form of sparkling eyes,
with the fork of serpent’s tongue.
I saw evil, perhaps, not in its entirety;
as with goodness, evil is an abundant
and all consuming well.
So young, so stained by herself and others,
this child daily sought the flame,
stealing from anyone, anything; she could.
From the fragile, translucent, moth
to kitten’s lick, she enticed beyond bounds.
Her beauty narcotic, evil bathed in jasmine,
giving kisses to gain access to her drug of choice.
Failure’s false excuses acts dispensing sexual pleasures;
luring with ribald sensation with filthy lucre.
Flames leapt from the eyes of the sweetest face,
recalling the pill vials abundance and place;
recalling the ease of reach.
Her thrusting tongue-tip, licked and leapt.
at the drooled corners of her strawberry-pink lips.
The lips she would let his aged, sick, body, kiss,
all for the high, his legal drugs would bring.
She stay. She’d give him everything—
He didn't pay in money, surely, there was no crime?
So near death, he’d pray.
“Lord God please heal me.” He’d say.
She’d smile and the horned corners of her lips would rise.
He’d seek life’s affirmation between her thighs.
She’d stay—until he died.
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