wicked

call me

lucifer,

the itch in your mind

telling you it’s fine

to touch me

blame the wine and my

devilish hips,

too drunk to taste

the sin on my lips, i am

disposable sex,

scripture burned on my

chest

blame the skirt and my

stiletto heels,

too drunk to tell you

how it feels, call me

she-devil, siren,

vixen and shrew,

i am

asking for this with my

infernal flesh,

too drunk to say no

as you hike up my dress, you are

instinct’s victim

come sunday,

forgiven

blame the breasts and my

wicked thighs,

throw your sins on the women

who see past your lies, you are

the itch in my mind

telling me it’s fine

to touch me

blame the wine and your

fiendish claws,

too drunk to say no

as you tighten your jaw, call me

baby girl, angel

don’t make a sound,

i am

asking for this with my

devilish hips,

too drunk to taste

the sin on your lips, and you

call me

lucifer.

_________________________________________________________

* The word count is 300 but that's all I have to say, so here's a relative quote to fill the "quota" <:

“Suppose neutral angels were able to talk, Yahweh and Lucifer – God and Satan, to use their popular titles – into settling out of court. What would be the terms of the compromise? Specifically, how would they divide the assets of their early kingdom?

Would God be satisfied the loaves and fishes and itty-bitty thimbles of Communion wine, while Satan to have the red-eye gravy, eighteen-ounce New York Steaks, and buckets of chilled champagne? Would God really accept twice-a-month lovemaking for procreative purposes and give Satan the all night, no-holds-barred, nasty “can’t-get-enough-of-you” hot-as-hell-fucks?

Think about it. Would Satan get New Orleans, Bangkok, and the French Riviera and God get Salt Lake City? Satan get ice hockey, God get horseshoes? God get bingo, Satan get stud poker? Satan get LSD; God, Prozac? God get Neil Simon; Satan, Oscar Wilde?”

― Tom Robbins