I refuse to deafen and wait until my demise
to use heaven as an excuse to reprise.
Never stave off pleasure, happiness and reward.
Claim what you get in the end yet take it well before.
For I recognize her being is what I adore
And after I take her deeply, I am left to want more.
Scrambling, I swing violently to grasp a metaphor
that brings me the thought to help explore
And describe the site of the emotional outpour
Of what my heart looks like spilled out on the floor.
The best things do not come to those who wait, death does.
I will indulge in her, here and now.
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