Longing for a dip
In the pool of familiarity, take the strain off
Relaxing in not fighting
The force pulling me down.
Were I to stab the source ceaselessly with a spear point
Were I to tear the flesh burning my soul
Were I to split down the middle with a smile in my eyes
Then I could sleep well tonight.
The crunch I mistake for hunger
The ache I confuse with desire
Drive toward the blade, anything to stop the fervor.
Would a rampuri stop the pleading in my chest?
Would the bleeding make quick work of me?
Would the cravings stop?
How does one destroy a hole?