Fingers to mouth,

Getting them moist,

To apart the pages

Of this rejoice.

The story's fantastic,

Of wanting and fate.

The more I read it,

The more I crave.

Guiding my touch

Down to it's spine.

Wanting to be

Deeply intertwined.

Mind to groin.

Hands to chest.

Forgive me, Father,

I need to confess.

Losing air.

Dying of starvation.

Thoughts so impure

As my imagination.