Fits of Passion

Bodies mingle in fits of passion
Greasy hands and greasy fingers
Poking, prodding, pushing, pulling
Sweats of lust inhibit our senses
The pheromones release such hunger
Those that are innocents, such a temptation
For the guilty want theirs back
With this act we rip apart the backs
Of those we let inside
A primal instinct to surge ever deeper
Throbs through those primitive loins
Even anger plays it’s part
Take the hurt you feel inside
Thrust it on another
Take it back, deep inside
Holding out for bliss