The Feeling

the feeling is bittersweet the flux of rapture and melancholy shadowing each other like the shaded sections in diagrams of spheres and prisms yet not so obsolete dashing in like a flash flood a wild bronco of a storm it leaves you slightly overwhelmed like a tree pulled from its roots by the wind in this moment there is nothing there a cold stalking silence of perception it is neither a cage nor prison but neither is it home i wrap it around my metaphysical from like a silk scarf to my physical only deceiving myself with the carnal temptation of its pleasure always ending on a sour note like the ill composition of an unwanted acquaintance