Original Sin

distrust my pleas
they beseech disingenuously
requesting your heart
to grant me compassion alá carte
distrust my mileage
to Sunday service never driven
abused hard, grinded gears
lengthening apparent years
distrust my silence
laid upon you like bleach
my goal’s to whiten
all the stains I brighten
distrust the voice
vague as can be in its hemming
its hees and haws
as it exalts and awes
distrust rehearsal
aimed at perfection
to steal your resolve
and substance dissolve
distrust the sex
too easily given
orgasms are oxytocin
a natural form of poison
I tell you these things
how I’m not to be believed
but you’ll choose to ignore
because I know you
and you’ll take
any excuse to think yourself a whore


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