Secrets
By Peter Scott
Secrets come
Secrets go
The fact remains
I never know all
You must take some perverse pleasure
In hiding from me
Forcing our dialog
To continue indefinitely
Begging is not a style
I readily endorse
Condemned to the ranks though
Its teachings have become a mastery
When I boldly think to know the secret
Another is concocted
One more juicy
Even more tempting to me
With apt and skill
You slice to the core of reality
Encoding everything
Wrapping and serving it delectably
If arousal is the game
I have lost to the odds
Throwing hands to the sky
Conceding your possession of thee
Too mesmerizing for neglect
There is an air of forced badgery
You always have secrets
The one quantity where science agree
Please feed this addiction
I live upon its knee
Forced to force you
To satisfy me.
