Confessional 1

The beast is back. It’s clawing at my cunt
and whispering in my brain. My hands are still
moral and chaste. It’s not seduced my will.
It sounds its horn, to rouse me to the hunt

of firm young flesh. Their interesting mind
the talent and the wit is an excuse.
Somehow the beast has never tried to choose
brains over large brown eyes or cute behind.

I hoped that age would dignify me, turn
me wise austere unselfish kind and chaste.
Some sweet thing wraps their arms around my waist
in play perhaps in lust. And oh! I burn.

I’m maddened by an itch I can’t ignore.
Middle-aged lust and shame ravish me sore.

Advertisements

About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to

  1. lyonesse says:

    hm, and here i thought cougardom was post-shame 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s