Deeply ridden, ached by the tension.
As the wind blows so elegantly, shifting in dimensional proximity, I feel the yearnings and pull of what is lost and what it is I need.
Fantasizing until my imagination is knotted in the loophole.
I hit a gentle fall, a wave of melancholic nostalgia.
My words have slowly puzzled itself.
I cannot seem to express what is really ******* inside.
My depth is no longer to be heard or seen.
The bright light hits my eyes, burning at the glare.
I write in senseless disposition.
Trying to reposition.
Sexually repressed.
Wanting the intimacy and craving *** like my nerves have exploded.
But my heart, it stops me.
My mind, it controls me.
My yearning of what I truly want Disciplines my desires.
Contradictions at stake.
My earth is about to quake.