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All I do is be set in some form of pandemonium.
I'm sick of the same ripe, dull daily mind-numbing
How will I be urged if I lose my equilibrium?
Is life's symbiosis likely to be tedious scaling?
Everything appears to me to be rendered nugatory.
Similar to a grave where a covered body is decaying.
With a driven heart, I have for you high expectancy.
Since I induced the fantasies around your trembling.
What's extra, I hear you moaning in the wings, enunciation,
"I'm a long way from your stream; continue to scratch."
My heart is for the domain of passion, its constitution.
For what reason did you peruse it with a skewed outmarch.
Eros won't permit his sprouts to be stifled cautiously.
I opine he'll be revolted by your outrageous peculiarity.
Written: September 3rd 2021
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2021
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