Soul Whirling Somewhere Unhittable
the cold hands i used to know are gone. and the tingling
uncomfort i used to savor was lost a long time ago. all
the innocence of inexperience and discovery has flattened
out into stale familiarity. sometimes, when i remember
the beauty of newness, the face then unmarred by
bitterness and instability, i sink into the pool of
blissful sighs and choke myself to death, knowing that,
sometimes, strangeness can never be recaptured.
