Prisoner

Immure is my state of fate, procreating
hundreds of inferences, bodies
alluring to privately correlate timorous
to confess, honesty enervates spirit,
deteriorating values, bones start
to curl in fetal position

Cravening devotes to quiescent
consciousness aches at the thought
of what trust means also equaling
still no sound of confession,
reiterate more excuses which are lies

how to cease all this prevarication?
emotions set up base forming lascivious
acts amorous becomes a main fact
loosing dedication to 1st love
disturbed by 2nd love,

fleeing from the criminal apparently
is silly for with cozen I'm a prisoner