/lit/ - Literature

I know too well the fate of those whose flaw
Is excess love; in shame and fear compelled
To render what is tender wholly raw,
Their pandemonium is never quelled.
Such searing creatures' sensual deeds betray
Their mutilated souls. For each is rent
By Eros, and quite hopeless to allay
Their ardour, kept in others closely pent.
To roam with diabolic thirst imbued,
Both burnt and burning, robbed of cool retreat,
Desire no sooner sated than renewed
In cinders, carnal heart prevailing meat.
Though shame and fear mark those who would debauch,
How heady is the fire! How sweet the scorch!