Hour Of The Hunting Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Fading seductions,
And reduced temptations...
Do not leave easy,
As we face replacements.

Habits are only bad,
If guilt is applied.
It would be nice...
To be gratified,
Without remorse at its side.

Undoing explicitness,
Is difficult to do without.
Discreeted peeks do not satisfy,
A libido that is denied...
In and outside.
With wishes to be freed,
To 'sniff' a whiff and scatter about!

And there hiding in our minds,
Is an undefined lust that grows.
And the more we try,
Losing that part of us...
Like a diet from it teases,
Until an urgency explodes!

The more the craving,
For 'it'...
Within us shows,
The hounding of the wolf!

'Where are my sunglasses?
It is the hour of the hunting,
To release some grunts! '