My name is SLOTH,
and I am exhausted.
I am tired, tired, tired and I will have none of the world before me
but to lie in my own circle of comfort.
I am the child of inertia,
supine and lethargy incarnate.
I am SLOTH, and I will have your hands.
My name is GREED,
and I want.
I will have excess in every form, and I shall be draped in the finest
gold and silver, with jewels on my fingers
and clothing of the finest silk.
I am indulgence, longing, avarice.
I make the greatest of men bow at my knees
I am GREED, and I will have your possessions.
My name is GLUTTONY,
and I am hungry.
I crave, I thirst, I need to be filled with luxurious delights
that sicken the tongue like the sweetest honey draped over the sour sting
of rotten meat.
I am ravenous, I will consume and destroy.
I am secretive and shameful, I am vomit in a bar bathroom.
I am fast food nightmares and cotton candy daydreams mixed with heroin and the vague hope
that morning will come so I can be satisfied once again.
I am GLUTTONY, and I will have your tongue.
My name is VANITY,
and I am beautiful, perfect, spectacular,
the pinnacle of perfection,
ultimate pleasure and aesthetic conceit.
I will be worshipped- I will be adored
under any circumstance, and woe befall those
who deny my gloriousness.
I am VANITY, and I will have your eyes.
My name is WRATH,
Fury and fire and rage,
burning hysterical heat on the back of your mind.
I’ll tear you apart with your own words
and make you drown in the consequences.
I am bitterness, convulsion, a hemorrhage of emotions
you can’t control, won’t want to.
I am WRATH, and I will have your mind.
My name is LUST,
Stolen kisses and hurried whispers in the night,
salacious weakness that will reach inside to your center
and burst out through your fingertips
until they brush against mine in the office,
at the bar, or at my house
in a rough tumble before the wife comes home.
I am an itch that can never be satisfied.
I am LUST, and I will have your heart.
My name is ENVY,
and I can never have what will fulfill me.
Each one but me is dressed in finery,
gifted with treasures beyond compare, and unwilling to share, to bestow.
I am prejudice, resentment that melts into hatred
and springs forth from covetousness.
I will destroy every friendship, break every trust.
I am the ultimate thief.
I am ENVY, and I will have whatever’s left.
He took advantage of the young man’s leave of absence to show him Paris, with all its luxurious and artistic delights. The count considered that, at Raoul’s age, it is not good to be too good. Philippe himself had a character that was very well-balanced in work and pleasure alike; his demeanor was always faultless; and he was incapable of setting his brother a bad example.
Their lovemaking was always desperate but never hurried.
They each luxuriated and delighted in each moment together. With the motions of pleasure and release, each exercised specters of the past, present duties and responsibilities, and future troubles.
When they laid naked and bare against each other, Elsa put away the mantle of queen and Anna put away the title of princess. Between tangled sheets, they were not sisters or royals; they were simply lovers.
But every stolen moment was tinged with the desperation of an imminent and certain end. So, they always clung to each other and poured out their love with mouths and fingers and in whispered I love yous.
Tomorrow might hold their end, but any night they made love…those nights only ever held them, safely and far away in each other’s arms.