I
look at...

As the tongue trips, consonants drip,
defaming dubious dissertations...

We all have an attic, the repository of unwanted...
Dusty, old, the cobwebs lie in wait for visitors...

Chasm of temptation pulls at my reluctant
sleeve leaving me void of refuge...

On the shelf, neglected
my Kama Sutra lies...

The pride that carries me to nowhere
takes these pithy words of comfort...

Your gaze
holds mine steady...

SPARK
voltage...

How I separate my desperation
from this vapor-like illusion...

Sadly,
Skies cry tonight...

Fear
subsides...

Caught up in whirlwinds of thought; Emotions.
Directions reversed, compass gone mad...