I cannot look into those eyes without feeling lost.
I cannot perceive that face without my heart palpitating.
Where is my picturesque, unquestioning beauty?
Who has the vigor to release and satisfy my desires?

Has she been left behind
or is it she awaits in the mysterious future?

My passions have been fed too little of late,
an introspective sitcom filling the gaps.

Driving for the divine,
dreaming of the sublime,
creating a faux-perfection
in my mind.

Holding onto illusions of wanting,
distractions of reality,
images of distinction,
impossibility.

Statements must always be addressed,
a position given without regret.

Be it possible at all
to have your passions play true throughout?

Is a goddess waiting for us each with understanding?
Is there a pair of arms capable of fulfilling?
What is craved must be pursued unendingly.
Waiting need not replace satisfying base fancies.