I live off memories of pleasure -
pleasure gained through pure pain.
Now new pain that's hard to measure
without yielding pleasure reigns.
My stage he entered uninvited.
In play called 'Life' I gave him role.
Into 'the Scene' he gently guided
my curiosity - I lost control
From Master of my own desires.
I turned into a passion's Slave.
Right then his lust expired.
Was he too feeble, was I too brave?
I live off memories of pleasure
as center piece on empty stage,
until the play resume I'll treasure
the ropes that tame my inner rage.
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