All revved up and no way to blow
There's a burning hunger that grows inside of me, a pent-up needing sexual rage, that my body can't set free
My mind races daily, thoughts paint pictures in my head, I turn them into poetry, I write them from my bed
Poetry of kinky bondage, of love and loss and lust, people sharing secret lives, mostly built on trust
Sharing their bodies, making love naked skin to skin, or sharing fleeting moments made from a lustful sin
I dream of those younger days, when my body was complete, when I could move properly, I had my legs and feet
When my cravings were saited, when my body did as it was told, I was kind of cocky, really brash and bold
Then things changed I lost my legs, I turned into the man I am today, I can dream of making love, but sadly I can't play
So all that desire, the ache that grows so deep inside, still revved up with no way to blow, no matter how I've tried
THE KINKY POET
