It seems that I long for you
Not by my own will
But guided by a sort of
Nausea

When I see you
I get lifted up by a tumultuous
Uproar of battling feelings
Of utmost excitement and fear
That I can no longer withstand
The gravity of an ordinary Earth
Without you

When I restrain myself from
Writing to you for fear of
Disturbing you
I am pulled and struck down
With a different kind of sickness
That threatens
With the force of a starless maelstrom
To sent me down the depth of river styx

I can do nothing but
Surrender to the Nausea
Lift up my quill
And call to you
For the river refuse to be calm
Unless I obey the sickness
That guides my every move.

May it be appeased by my unspoken
Trust and loyalty
And bring me back to you.