Smouldering Even Though We Aren't Supposed to (Says Who?)

We all do it. Or maybe we don't, and I'm projecting, and that's why it's a taboo— wanting what you can't have and... having it anyways. Having your cake before dinner, eating it off the hot plate that talks pretty to you and shouldn't talk at all like a good Nyotaimori boy or girl—That space between what you know and what you shouldn't, what they don't, smiling in their face like a cheshire cat in heat... Bad is good, babe, you either know or you don't—I want to see horns sprouting, head—games, exchange—fair is fair, honor amo among thieves and scoundrels and sex freaks and all that. Make me pop all you want, I won't talk—I'd rather moan and scream your name like polished onyx or diamonds cut on my tongue.