Rivers are flowing within. Swollen tip has been toughly aching, Numbness seems to be dominating Yet continuously finding the headwaters of river, Running through, flowing permeably.
Grasping as it wonders when it will be truly found, Crying out heartβs true deepest desires. Trudging up a steep trail, Freudian slips as tongueβs weeping, On other hand, thrusting the tip of oneβs iceberg.
Apparently consumed over its power But giving such soothing impalpable warmth of a lover. Lying on seabed of embers, Head over heels, asking: Am I wandering in a milky dream again Or is it just the caffeine that rushes through me at the moment?