in retrospect

they found in him a beating heart
triple-stranded chunk of love
chocolate layered
icing whited
washed by winter rains and guided
by it - they eagerly sat
hands in lap
a shell of their former selves
their former selves being merely shelves
upon which boys so easily hung themselves
and they found in him a new advance
a desert storm - a second chance
fruition through and through

but he was not and is not easily amused
and wont be used to butter up the toasted whims
of vixens sliced from bread
instead - he'll cover them in cinnamon
and soak their edge till drenched
with his battered tongue of sadomasochism
known as French.

because - he can - he could - he does -

because because because because - because of the wonderful things he does

and as it goes - their relations were based merely on the loosely threaded hope
that he would find their fascination with his every acted antic a basis for a relationship
when in fact their admiration was in every regard a putrid offense of hollow intention
and they were not worth a moment of his time.

the ugly truth reveals the pretty people and their lies.