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
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