Idle Hands

Mine hands

Sinful tools possessed

Dance along 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