The Id Is In Control. Poem by Hannah York

The Id Is In Control.

Rating: 4.5


You're reaching out for me,
Irresistibly tempting what you see,
Perfume drags me in,
Into your world full of sin,
Down the stairs we go,
To a place only my chosen know,
My pulse is racing,
Your lips are aching,
Travelling is on the menu today,
North and south without delay,
Exploring in every way possible,
Our bodies become indivisible.

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Needs some changes but for now will do. For those of you who do not know the 'id' is the part of our brain that gives us the need for pleasure and immediate satisfaction.
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