the learning curve of a scoundrel

At a stand still I am quite non-negotiable.
In times of greater good things;
my noble self takes notice.
I heed to such notes of honor:
my desire is quenched with the thrist.
I am not negotiating a pardon,
to see the woman's womb set up
on my shoulders.
As if some pornographic expose,
we dance in exhibitionist type behavior.
However, I am not a tentative individual,
for that I can see. . .
but cannot do without.
I cannot do without my tears,
found in a pool of pure warm blood
gushing through my veins.
This is the release I experience in real time.
A perfect kind of vision,
that sparks dynamite in ruin.
Which speaks of prisoners held victim,
to their own property.
I feel encouraged by such things.
So is my bravery in a dramatic fashion.
I take as long as I Want.
As I want it.
Black eyes,
blue eyed,
clues to my heart.
It aches,
it breaks,
for no fear of biting nails in finger,
after finger,
after. . .
finger.
Nibling the mouses teeth and spine.
Grow a spine, you fiendish mouskateer.
You've earned the help,
so well deserved.
I itch,
I scratch,
I bite,
I claw.
All to impress upon me,
the bribery with my gall.