The Dog Whistle

At different times I’ve fallen into lusts
that ate my money, time and better sense
but were the surging moments most intense,
and which I held up close in utter trust.
The fishing, running, drinking were my thrusts,
the eating, screwing, traveling times immense.
The more is more of life I clutched in tense
and nervous grips too strong to ever bust.

And yet with time the urges shrank away,
the tastings cloyed, the greed a distant mood,
the wanton chasing after sex and thrill
was withered down to hoping for the day
and I am left in ache to sit and brood
of why my fevered longings were so shrill.