the hunger hit, the savage took
awake, incensed, he grabbed the hook
of flesh and shape with needs of him
to blatant feed off filthy whim
to sweat, to writhe, to beat in time
no subtle soothing tender rhyme
for savage feels the aching skin
that crawls for taste of legal sin
that invitation placed in glass
that's filled with moisture drawn en masse
from shapely meat that calls for pain
that's passion born from savage gain
~Apollo
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