Sadistic heart, masochistic mind;
I’m burdened with madness.
My soul is conscious of its own damnation
yet tempted to partake.
I have no control.
I’m buried in a toxic grave
that transmits itself through my soul.
I burn in my own iniquity.
My passions come and go
like the waxing and waning of the moon.
My body shrouded in darkness, I’m aware
that the choke hold of death is upon me.
The strength I possess is extraordinary,
but the weakness I feed reigns supreme.
Restraint is a gift of mastery
I have yet to conquer.
My eyes are devoid of life and meaning.
I turn away from my infernal instinct
yet my heart races with vigor,
for your soul is violable.
I become blind to morality, deaf to the cries of justice.
I become the master,
granting you a taste of my death,
relinquishing my burdens.
My demons fester in darkness.
Your enslavement feeds their cries.
Locked in this prison
it’s balance I seek, forgiveness I ask.
How can I justify this life I lead?
My heart was pure, soul was modest, mind was strong,
but defraud of life
because the flesh was hungry.
The Flesh Was Hungry © 2007 Rena Aliston. All rights reserved.
The poem is available in the poetry book Woven Tales: Selected Poems. Now available in paperback and ebook.