Seeker

 
“This sick, loathsome strategy will get you nowhere.”, yes I admit.
In matters of love I’m a prodigal though intense emptiness is all that I collect
 
The tremoring voices in my head can only be silenced by her tender touch.
The fetid monster destroying the last presentable image of who I am, in her presence would be tamed and sent into a hutch.
 
In her I find a remedy why would I deny?
In her I see a sparkling attraction that puts me on my knees why would I lie?
 
Lie about the human nature, buried in me, older than me,
And ignore it as it warns me, impels me to move before I parch, I need to set it free!
 
Am I to blame for my disbelief, for setting your fairytales on fire?
Or is it you who I should blame for making a thin layer of formalities drown a man in an unescapable mire?
 
Look at me, as I grasp and only let go when I hear a scratching sound.
Stop me! Try and stop me as I break the rules that you’ve created a movie empire around.
 
I am seeking a refulgence that has woke me up in a deep sleep,
 inside the stomach of the eased, arrogant, embodiment of the dark, in which I stood alive waiting for a fragment of color to seep.
 
I am seeking to see from a comfortable distance
The real version of the perfect shape that I see in my dreams and that enlightens my existence.
 
I am seeking the rhapsody that I need to introduce to my system on a daily basis, for a trice of satisfaction,
and absolution by my own Goddess of attraction.
 
And you consider a life-saving hustle a loathsome strategy?
Well, whom of us is cruel? Indulgence was my heresy, yours is not having mercy.
 
Dear readers of this weeping poem, before I go on further in this quarrel, you may ask why I am seeking to see and not to touch,
and why I am making the lady cringe but please before you judge,
 
let me say, let me say that I was once a God, high above near my Goddess,
high above in the lands of no consequences and absolute carelessness.
 
I lost the privilege of being immortal when I assassinated a love that was meant to last.
I took it for granted, I haven’t seen it as a vulnerable lust.
 
And now all that I have left is a screeching yearning and, I can’t hide, a burning lust.
And now for it is necessary for me to last, I am a seeker.