desire
looms like mind-ghosts inside-out—
pure
want, supposed need, the greed in our
souls,
to have such patience, to die so often—
accused
of nonchalance grieving a scar.
some
forfeited game
they
act differently
they
speak an unfamiliar tongue,
much
was removed.
no
one hurt like the pain we felt; open passion, closed parades, association, as
for a conclusion; rage in younger souls, patience in wiser souls, ways to move
earth, in cryptic souls.
I can’t
believe yearning made destruction, begging made embarrassment, color meaning so
much, or so little to us. I remember instant attraction, fabulous affection, a
little too emphatic on the matter.
the
best in us, given to the worse of us, something might desire confliction,
combat, degradation.
I sensed
a brilliant person, professors are uncanny, priding intelligence, knowhow, nuance.
an
associate called it illusion, I called it delusion, sane enough to gain some
insight.
another,
so obscure, so flirty, it meant nothing, it means nothing.
