A shiver of uncertainty
prickling stars on the corners of my frame.
Weaving through speach, playful and playing
what is this awful game?
Deep in the chasm, pain in my belly
never satisfied, never done
disrobe myself and begin once more
to never find myself ready
nothing ever won.
And I can sharpen my wit
day by day
whittle it to a blade
practice what I say.
It's nothing impressive
next to the truth
I'm completely and compulsively obsessive
with the way that you move.
In fact, I am entranced
by every little thing that you do
embarrassingly strong, this yearning notion.
I cannot break through.