Caught on the border of experience and want,
I lose my true north in the cyclone that entraps my thoughts.
Cognizant of my own person,
I understand how my foresight fails me.
Most of the time I only awake in the calm of the eye,
Before I know it, I'm miles above the fertile soil of the ancients.
She may be blind, but it is hard to imagine her lapse in judgement between a serpent and a hare.
Give into the trust you harbor for me, and I shall put my speech on the line.
I swear that come Hell or high water, I will cultivate the honor from my heart that you desire.
If one day from behind the curtain I discover a succubus in disguise,
Be forewarned,
My kindness ceases there.
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