A Cage of Your Own Temptation

I want to trap you in the surest snare ever:
A cage of your own temptation.
We'll sit inside and groom our ferality
To vivid, contagious perfection.

Nitpicking in the word's best meaning:
Social, tender, vainglorious preening
We'll feast on the pungent and the rip-roaring fresh
And eat our fill of succulent flesh
A snort, a snarl, claws and a fang
Oh baby won't you do that thang!

We avid jailers our own happy charges:
At once both fettered and fetterer.
Let's shut ourselves in for a lengthy stay
I can't think of anything betterer.

My dear imp, lock the door 
And throw the key as far away as your good, good arm can.