Idle Hands

Mine hands

Sinful tools possessed

Dance alone the periphery

Of thy intimate domain

Touching and probing

With subtle 

Perverse persuasions


Caressing thy sweet softness

With course and brutal desires

Has thou the courage

Within thy soul

For acceptance of such

And grant admittance

Into thy Forbidden garden


Or shall these hands

Be bound and left idle

Their tools left to rust

From the tears

Of mine intimate frustrations



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