Enters horned desire with bowing grace
But scant regard for the thorned trunk
That it must climb
To touch and taste
And pluck from its place… The prize of its obsession
Descends again with bleeding hands
And seeming cherished pain...
With scant regard for injuries self-inflicted
Totally oblivious to the slow death
Which creeps upon a soul
That constantly bleeds itself...
Comes stumbling now…
Under the influence of a fleeting satisfaction
And falls... Losing the grip it had
On the forbidden fruit
For which it sacrificed its life
For the promise of vain ecstasies
And finally reaps... The Grim Reaper’s due
Excerpt From: Roy Alexander Graham, “In My Element” Figtree Enterprises, Inc., 2012.
For more of my poetry visit www.figtreeenterprises.com
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