Coffee drenched evenings lead to staring into empty space.
Trying to devour the emptiness,
Filling it with the thoughts and desires that fuel the torment.
If only to be the eyes:
To see the immense worth you have grown blind towards.
If only to be the ears:
To be deafened by deeply buried confessions,
Fully enlightened and liberated.
The torment ensues,
Like a mighty cranial whirlwind.
My mouth cannot speak my mind,
And my mind cannot fathom my heart.
The torment reigns.