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This withdrawal  -
- My abstinence -
Is bitter absinthe.

My hands shake and clasp
My flames are focused
My legs twist, crossing
Every movement
Sets off sensation
Hard heat and hunger.

I endure exile.

Paradoxically
I run and wander miles
To waste energy
Trying to ignore
But by wasting, build -
Sensations, oh, more...

The scents I perceive
In shadowy woods,
Wet waving grasses...
Stairways and corners
Even crested hills.
Where I had conquests.

Shiver, and be still.
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:iconcatspupil:

Author's Comments

This may be a bit confused, but it's been happening over the past while.

Comments


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:icon3wyl:
:hug: I reckon the confusion reflects the concept well. I like the structure and the use of punctuation here.

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:iconcatspupil:
Thanks... And yes.

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Usque adeo ne
Scire tuum nihil est, nisi te scire hoc sciat alter?

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