If I show you my soul, would you cringe from the view,
run far from my desperate grasp,
faint from the threatening sounds?
Perhaps you would enjoy the thump
of angry drums found on my island.
Sacrifices of time lost to the wind,
captured memories locked in empty boxes
with keys buried in graves of my logic.
Natives dance to my seductive moon,
call out to the temptress residing there,
giving her what she needs to reign, blinded by lust.
Ghosts travel where they will, forever chill
my bones into submission;
I give them what they need.
Echoes bring the drums closer,
the natives dance harder,
the ghosts travel faster…
as my body cries the immoral call, “take from me.”
Once again I ask of you…
if I show you my soul, would you cringe from the view?
Written November 20, 2010