The Cure

i'm scared of you the most______ you intimidate me to silence, to trembling shame. my hands are lustful, awaiting the contact of me to you to she he it to nothing. somewhere, i know, is a body slinked over a door, struggling to look in the shadowed room & remain hidden --- to catch me meeting feeling loving you without even knowing who you are. you are desire--- i desire nothing though, so you are a falsity--- a mask over a mask----- no, you are a state of mind, a confusion, a war, an eruption of every sense, every note of music, a spiritual ****** needing to be unchained. i look around, for maybe an answer a question a reason behind this. my chin resting on the bones of my knees, i seek to find the very bit of art that hasn't yet become art. to find satisfaction. to find the cure. to find where you are ticklish. stay drawn up, away, on the edge of time --- the brink of infinity --- the tip of my tongue. stay where i need you most but want you least. inspiration IS you. nameless, faceless, but with a body that kills. flesh insults the air around you & is forgiven by the letting go of the soul. the heart lays beating against the ribs begging to be cut loose, pleading for the veins and arteries to break and for salvation. blood, you said. bleed me, i replied.