immense
innumerable
sadness
betrayal
of the platonic
knowing of the being
Forcible Interaction
pains me
angst
aching
clumsy abandonment
the reconnect
fumbled
lacking a mitt
no reassuring hand
to assist
it is lovely
yet wicked
in a knowing sort of way
to know a soul
to embrace it
and then to be fucked
by it
consequently
ironically
i am the mitt
the hand
the assistance
for the one
the one
that embodies the wicked lovely soul
oh please God
is this the way of the
world
to wane tiredness
is this
the only mode of living
i desire none of it
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