Faithless
We are faithless creatures.
With a pitchfork of lust,
our eyes wander
from fickle hearts
and self depreciating impulses.
Our veins
jump
and our insides pulsate
with the prospect of new faces,
arousing
the worst in us.
Shamelessly,
I want,
I want,
I want,
something else,
something better,
something bigger, something,
more
that you can’t give me
(fidelity)
because I never had it myself
(has anyone?)
There are too many possibilities,
when you realize your soldier ant position
in the world.
We live in an entire colony
of indistinction.
How can anyone tell
what you have going on the side
as long as you stick to the routine?
Really,
who isn’t available,
when you stop to think?
Fidelity,
what a funny word,
to drive an entire race
from it’s instincts.
It’s an improbable proposition,
at best.
A sentence of life,
A promise,
to
one
body
out of a billion.
It’s a consumer driven promotion,
like romance,
it’s a big red button
in an empty room
you cannot help but
PUSH
as though you may never have another chance.
Will your head never turn?
Will your skin never
beat
between your legs
like a deep bass,
never
saturate
like dew beading over a leaf,
for a stranger?
Is it realistic to think all that,
gold plate it
and then
tie it around your finger
like a vaccination?
Has anyone, ever
really,
been faithful,
when the line between
_____flirtation______
________and________
cheating
is easier to run outside
than a child coloring
without the supervision of an adult.
Eye contact
can say more than intercourse
but cannot predict the conversation afterwards.
She looks at me
and I am
ravaging her
in my thoughts,
like I didn’t know where she belongs
or that I have turned into the
incarnate
of my perpetrators,
after all.
I am
a bad person,
I am a bad friend,
ravaging her in my thoughts
I am,
no better than them.
I find myself
like a cross-eyed contradiction,
catering to the id.
Lustful and faithless,
I am
only human.
I look at her,
impure as my thoughts,
reaching with shackled hands
and sealed lips.
I am,
keeping my actions in check
while her eyes wander
fickle and impulsive,
into mine.
We are but
faithless creatures, tortured souls and always lying.
Testing human nature like an overbearing parent.
And they say everything,
is a matter of time.
