Gunning

I’m hunting for treasure,

found in solitude, digging deep

into a psyche. There’s a touch,

a nightingale, tugging

and shoving. We merge to

clash, riddle to riddle, as sly as

foxes. Such a wildfire, consciously

unconscious, surfing

for consciousness. Hear it whisper,

a sphinxly cry,

yearning for domination. I fall

a bit to witness love. I

rise a jot to rattle bells. Something

is dearly uncooked,

churning koans. What is this

appetite, weeping wells,

featured in highs and lows? I give

it to music, gripping a

harpoon, dreaming a lovespell. It’s

purely sublime, to

cross a city, staring at inner walls. I

grab a vibe, admire

life, ten miles to forest. Something’s

piercing, bittersweet,

as solemn as love.

Our deepest sanctum, cluttered

with chaos, filled with

ghosts. It’s fettered light, and fettered

dark, crawling into

a psyche. I seek to be stream, seen to

be peeked. Life is

twilight, foggy come dawn, gunning

for living.