Sensory Indulgence; All Efforts Vanquished Poem by Ian (John) McCleary (Son of the Cleric)

Genie, grant my every wish! Says the voice of Lucre.
And the piece of technology, as like rubbing the lamp, makes all wishes come seemingly true... well...at least for the time allowed him, without a trip to some place of wicked debauchery.
But the aftershock is cruel,
though he was relieved of all his demons in the moment, there is still one left he has forgotten,
contained of guilt.
He now feels it in his soul, that he is an empty vile where love was once alive.