Morning Ritual

Intensity begins...

the insane obscured turmoil
that rises up like,
scorched gaseous
tendrils of desire.

Desire is p-u-l-l-i-n-g
like a rabid beast;
craving release from
its cruel torturous captor.

Such hunger could not,
should not be denied.
How much longer
would this g r u e l l i n g
game go on for?

Holes are threaded:
in and out...
some kind of perverse ritual
which is surely only
meant to cause...

PAIN!

And...It does,
it always does,
so why, why the delay?

Always delay,
preventing what I need:

Release.

This desired craving
Is creating barbed insanity,
creating ,stinging heat,
like brushing past nettles.

The ritual continues...
Coverings are:
- Donned
- Zipped
- Fastened...
in what seems like,
s
l
o
w... m o t i o n.

Everything except my mind
warps in an opp o site
direction.

Craziness conspires
to corrupt this aching want:

It mocks and points its finger.
It knows how to destroy belief.
It knows how fragile my faith is.
It, always knows...

and I know it too.

My Heart is racing, thumping, fighting to leave my chest.
I cry out. I cannot contain excitement any longer.
I simply cannot.

My voice, my very being
is begging to be released,
like a river threatening a weakening dam.
Finally, the dam

...BREAKS!

I keep crying, yelling, howling,
barking, barking, barking,

barking...

Then the voice, the word
I have been longing to hear,
****"Walkies"****

M. Moran
11.9.15