A poem I wrote about a year ago.
Although, it can destroy the inner me; my heart is heavy for a radical change of the exterior. And though the urge is like the blazing, demanding sun beating down on the raw garden of the delirious lust in the head, an elaborate travel to the shadow self. It goes about in the corners, the it that pounds in the core of you; the largeness of its center fills you whole from sole to soul, a quiet abduction hovering about at the foot of your duvet, chanting away at the restless sleep while insides churning, spine turning to an ache amplified by fear of death from pounding want.
idling in between happiness and sadness isn’t so bad
