Struggling to conceive a non-visual God
In the nucleus of an eye, clouded, stained;
Battling to lie to the trauma of Life,
She makes love to a barely surviving
Fantasy of Death.
Pull out the plug now:
Let me breathe in another sphere,
Even if the breath be yet another sigh:
I insist, pull out the plug now!
My heart, over-fried in the oil of your affection,
Lit ablaze by an insatiable quest,
Feels such a mess!
I wonder, how and why it beats!
You know well, to teach a wanderer to stray.
What must belong nowhere, ought be on their way.