Flawed eventless, the muck to the mire
To the river crimson with lustful haze.
Supressed desire flows like light, rapture to the gaze.
Feverd, clamy, tossing, turning
Lying wrestless on the floor.
Sarrow slips, through the cracks,
to come smashing through the door.
Famin parched, the scream to the cry,
to the path trampled in fits of rage.
Unrelenting fire, burns like ice, denile in a cage.
Calm, relaxed, watching, breathing,
Standing idle at the sash.
Anguish waits at beck and call
to come crashing through the glass.
Hidden in a seamless world of delight and joy and glee
A fractured cloud of misery waits
to have its cake and thee,
to reval as it sulks with company.
Ever growing spawned by fear, deathly silent in its' plea
Eating away at the sinews of faith,
dispair awaits its' time to flea.
Akin to death, friend to evil, slient screaming in its' vain
Dissolving with trust the passion of the lust
Envy plies to its bain.
Passion and fire, burning desire, these monsters are not the same.
All too familiar, confusing just the same, betrayed by flesh.
What is there cannot be had, for surely this is no game.
