I hate how much you impress me,
It's like I can't even listen or look without yearning for you to undress me...

Press me, caress me; drag you fingertips along my lines,
Feel the pressure of your sturdy hands sink into my flesh and your body weight over mine...

It sickens me, exhausts me;
Envelopes the heavy ***** that
beat
beat
beats me

Its not fair, it can't be true
I'll never hold, tame, nor conquer you

Drawn to the flame, such a dangerous game
Rosie you'll burn,why haven't you learned?

A lingering light will lose the fight,
The masochistic urge; a hunger to merge
A craving for sin amplified from within

Its only a ticking of time and a glimpse of sublime and this cyclical curse shall repeat

Initially a dream, the twisting scene finds the shadows and chills that burst from the seam;
A creeping, a seeping of resent filling and keeping

I knew from first glance twas a twirl of chance,
Only passion and fire, the flames of desire

As they dance through my veins with vengeance and claim
The last shred of me and remaining purity.

In and out,  the breath falls heavy
The silence surrounds, the loneliness empty.

Chill seeps in and and the world seems dead.
Life and its love fade from my head.

In and out,  the breath falls heavy.
A reminder of me all alone with my pity.

So reach towards the center, the peace is within
It won't be with others or intertwined with sin.

In and out,  the breath falls heavy
The feelings will fade as soon as I'm ready.

Searching for the self
Drowning in time
Whirling, waiting
Hoping,  praying.
Gasping, grasping,
Reaching for a center.
No end in sight,
Pulse racing as if in a fight.
Seeking, peeping,
breathing, keeping.
Where am I going?
No.  
Where am I staying.  
Embrace the soul.
Master the whole and the world will follow.
Always full and never hollow.
Resting,  easing,
The peace is teasing....

The contrasting black and white on the masterpiece before me reorients my mind into the mode of a whole other language; a language not spoken, but sung.

As my bow slowly descends into position I feel a rush of eagerness and concentration flow from my conscious,  spilling into my veins and drenching my organs.

One
Two
Three
Four;

I am off in a distant place; a destination known only to those who believe in the music; are the song.

My pulse quickens as the end draws near, arms rising and falling,  fingers dancing upon the strings. As the notes gain tempo and decibels increase a ****** is achieved:

The air becomes silent with the breath of music and it is finished.

The bell rings;  leaving me still craving,  yet things are gathered and the physical body moves to the next class,  as if I never left my seat.

Craving of the flesh, passion and desire.

Although it's a want, it continues fueling the fire

Hormones and images only fan the flames,

The Red of *** coursing  through my veins.

Will it ever die down to embers and coal

Or is it destined to tug at the body and soul?

Is this hunger to be embraced and indulged?

Or suppressed and ignored?

Mind and Spirit conflicted
Want and need, where's the balance?

Conscious and subconscious
The battle never ceases to exist.

Why must they always struggle?  
Is peace unattainable or just far removed from this moment?

The unease feels oppressive and all-consuming
But there must an intervention,  a truce,  a way to relieve the anxiety.  

But for now there remains a struggle, an internal argument.

Everyday I approach the ongoing challenge between the psyche and the self.

Perhaps things shall change.