The successor lives a life of taught
asceticism, corrupted by nothing, but a heart and
a mind, his own drum and band
and beat.
Worries escape his unlocked hell,
his key molded not in the same fire,
she once left me to burn.
Oh how I long for emancipation,
unaffected freedom and thought.
But I feel a pull toward you and
an arrow shot from her being,
stabbed and wounded,
the speed unbearable.
Dark red ****, flooding river,
flowing from the hole,
her existence, vitality,
breathing heart, opened wide my ocean.
Why does your effect,
still burn,
infect, still
keep my innards
wanting, longing,
for a patch.
Oh sew and needle me!
Jealousy and need
and human lust and self
absorption never so felt strong her sting.
I miss this fire,
still, the pain from her.