That four letter word, again.

I have cautioned myself to be alive,
To be consciously aware enough to thrive,
To kill my heart's depths and be a thinker
Of contemporary affairs and such momentary trifles.
I have tried my best to make my heart want
Anything but another human being.
I have pushed and thrust my imagination
To go beyond my life and this scene.
You know what is coming now and I know you won't be surprised
When I tell you my nightly mares and the pit in the morns, inside.

Oh, don't I want to love you like I used to?
Yes, I do and more than I wanted to!
I want to love you with a passion so fierce
My heart cries out in fear while it bleeds!
I want to love you like I could sing
The highest note I could with all the strength in my abdomen!
I want to love you to want you to be with me,
Want it so much that I hold on to my hand imagining it to be yours.
I want to love you like I could write for days and years
While sleep and hunger become just mere inconveniences.
I want to love you so much,
The desire threatens to break my heart and burst my brain.

Why do I want to love you and not really love you, love?
Why do I stop from throwing myself at this opportunity
To give in to how much I want to love you, love?

It is so that my heart is weak.
It won't stand another blow,
The way I kept incessantly stabbing at it with my love.

I long for the day to have recovered from the injury,
Like a dancer who waits to play on those feet after a fall.
I long for that day when I can, once again,
Pluck at those metaphorical strings to a new tune.
I long to see what or who will compel me to dust my harp off,
I hope I don't let it rust till then.

Imagery and Imagination

It is not always that my senses perceive consistently.

They do not form, together, what they must

As a response to the stimulus.

There is this battle within while I form anew

What I must form to define new experiences.

Alas! I did not see until now, that the image is not to feel one.

The image was to know as my senses knew, differently,

That their implication of an emotion, is and always has been of one.

Urges

Urges – ugly, beautiful urges.

To enjoy and to perish in them. To twirl to its beat to dizziness.

Come, dive in, my precious. Synchronize and swim to our melody!

You be the main and I’ll be the bass, because we no longer need a higher tone.

I’ll tie weights around your ankles and soothe you in my embrace.

No, my love, we do not drink in the hope of freedom but in the knowledge of bondage.

Cheers to escape from sanity, from patience and serenity!

No, don’t run away!

Or, in fact, you must run! Run in feverish Desire, never at a moment’s peace.

Wait! How did you slip out of the weights, out of my shackles? Where did you find the strength and serenity to do this?

I see! It’s in you? It’s in you, oh no!

Another one in and out, passing by like the rest.

Never is this their destiny, just a nasty test.

Just a nasty test.