wisefool

Wanting what I can’t have,
I fear pulling any strings
to manipulate myself
with fantastic
greed and lust
into a teethy position;
clenched, yet not penetrating
gripped, yet not tasting. . . .
salivating into rabid hysteria and madness.

Instead, I let my desires be known
only to myself
and to whomever else can sense
the whispers that exist densely in my mind.

I embrace the thought, feverishly
yet I choose to let the
mystery make itself known to me,
in lieu of bullying myself into places that I have no right to be.

__________________
Say hello to my frontal lobe.