Oh, what luscious vagrancies you have led me to. Without naught but sand as sole foundation, the purchase of solid ground taken in an act of eminent dominance. An act of my own contrition. An act of bold and subtle confidence.
Each layer, each pitch-perfect spot, unraveled me, deconstructed my biases and base nature, only to be reimagined something new. Something with only a taste for your salted waters. Weep for me.
You staked your claim to this, and before I knew you even wanted it, you had mined me for desires of gold and flesh. You were the rush.
Every good boy is led astray, every man a fool for what makes his heart race.
Intentions, never puritanical. Appetite, always insatiable. Mercy, non-negotiable.
Convinced that my fealty to the master-mind lust you conjure has me open.
It is fatal.
It is revival.