I am tortured by the form you have taken,
by your representation and illumination.
it is nothing other than pure ecstasy,
dipped in radiance,
and toasted to a golden crisp.

I am always left with wanting more.
More means without any ends;
the sun shining brightly,
and you forever smiling upon me.

You are decadent.
swirling around in the desires,
that exist for you, without you,
and in that casting you lay in wait,
spring loaded and ready to accept,
that which is asked of you.

You are forever more,
encompassing my passion,
and passionately encompassing,
all the threads of my being.

We are not so different,
You and I,
A means without an end,
and an end without any means