The fires of lust burns bright on the ovens of my heart

And every second the girth spreads into a wildfire
Looking on some hapless victim to devour

But really, my brain is starting to pitch tents
With this lustful lustfulness

And the term lust becomes to me suddenly a friend with a smiley face
I am thinking i deserve some victim

I am thinking i am not normal not having some good victim
Even the word victim becomes to me not victim but rather normal

I do need someone to love and be loved by
And that very scope eludes me by a stroke of what i call timidity

Or perhaps i am pretty much disillusioned for a fact
And this rodomontade only puts flesh on the evidence

At least
It is a good way to get some catharsis