That glossy book of perdition
in the hand evokes a dark emotion
The pulse intensifies
Over pages that temporarily satisfies
A soul in need of more
Despite the need within the core
This poisonous meal is consumed
Unaware that he is truly doomed
Each page. Each image. Each bite.
Creates a darkness darker than night.
Yet he presses on towards his prize
The centerfold of forbidden fruit and lies.
A tall beauty never meant for his gaze
Finally, the object of his praise
She smiles beautifully with luscious lips
But she cannot speak his soul from the pits
She looks at him with eyes that pierce his soul
Yet her image is blind, eyes dark as coal
“I’m a great listener” says her profile
But she is deaf and he is in denial
On the page, her form and figure appear complete
Yet she is lifeless and he is a cheat
He, too, has a mouth with which to speak
Yet he is mute as his family falls over the peak
He has eyes to see the harm he brings
Yet he is blind to the one on whose finger he placed rings
He has ears to hear the sounds of impending doom
Yet he is deaf to the warnings that dangers loom
He is among the living, working and playing each day
Yet he is lifeless, his soul in decay
Mute. Blind. Deaf. Lifeless.
You become what you worship and image what you bless.
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