Lust

I end up with a distinct,

Disagreeable,

Dormant want,

Which creeps,

Squeezes,

Patters and peters,

Like drops of rain,

They drop the pain,

It crumbles,

Crooks,

Sounds creaky,

That old couch,

Covered with dead creepers,

That small rug,

With dust so steed,

Wasted,

Sniffed sour,

And lusty,

Cause I remember,

That place,

So, quenched,

And fired,

Were the infuse,

Endive,

Caring, and love

Started and ended, 

In one night,

Overlayed,

Crushed,

Broken to pieces,

Not to adjust,

But just LUST