As summer air swaddles me from
ear to waist, the most benign of all sounds sets off a biological riot in me &nights; like these
take my breath away enough to stir up in me the awarenessthat
I
am not
what they want.

Neither Satan nor Substandard
could beg more than what I've been aching to portray.
Both less than and less than
hold their finely tuned scopes and too-broad knowledge to every detail I present.
Neither more eager to please than the other, I blend
devil's advocacy with indifference, but I still can't make either pair of eyes
lips or
fingertips
meet mine.
Oh & Satan,dearest when you take my hand I melt,
I'm desperate to stitch it toyours. But you've no use
for the doppleganger I'd become
to coax approval from the masses.

With that, I crane my neck to see the tower that you are, Substandard. Pleading indecency
and
scoffing at regret, I could almost
mistake your saccharine tone
of voice for the alluring Song of Satan.

I gather up my sins into a bundle and leave them by your side while I plead with fate to condemn my
soul,
elicit a wisp of affection from you,
something for me to hold onto
until winter returns.

What sort of discomfort can coerce a girl to pray for madness just to win inadequacy over?