Desire Knocking At the Door

I'm drearily in bed at last,
The day's events slung on the floor,
I think I've finally quelled my mind
When Desire comes knocking at the door.

I fling some laundry in the way
To stop the sound that I abhor,
But gently there's a damning scratch
From Desire scraping on my door.

I turn and say it's just the wind
That shakes me to my quiet core,
But I cannot but help to hear
Desire whining at my door.

Covering my ears in dread
I try to quiet the droning score,
But gauntly and sonorously
Desire is dirging at my door.

My mind is grossly grasping now
To squash the sound of garish whore,
But nothing tears my self away
From Desire calling at my door.

I feel bewitching I can't stop,
A haunting 'till I slake the roar;
Gore and grotesqueness I will see
'Cause Desire's spooking at my door.

I'll stop the horror and be free,
Of beckoning I can't ignore
If I won't sleep then I will meet
Desire's knocking at my door.