I’ve come to—k(now), the sobering conclusion
that I must be a lunatic; else what
sufficiently explains the smirking smut
clouding my judgment?—what viscous illusion—
outright{(diagnosable[,perhaps)delusion]},—
persuades me to heed your haughty strut?
Each inch of every corner of my gut
is begging—not—accept—refuse—intrusion.
ah!, but I budge, I give in to temptation!
why,why,why must I make the same mistake
instead of just quite well so simply break-
-ing the cycle of you?—o’ that salvation,
in what dark nook lurks it?, which saviour holds
the key that unschackles me from your folds?
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