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We love yet we hate
menagerie of playful idolatries
all for one
a sacred bliss in secret spoken loud
withheld until the time is ripe
a decaying whisper caressing the receptive mind
speaking with actions and time
attaching significance to minute details
making a world of a moment
erecting a fortress of untitled strength
building a we
it's disgusting in a sense
what we create in essence
no dissent
no distress
no need to reassess
what is will be
so pure and true
never before encountered a likeness to you
happily humbled being tortured by inner smiles
and then that constant feeling all the while
It's something I may never truly know
