The game of love
A game of wants…
Seismic depths of gusts
Hard to fill
Harder to clog.
The more it is filled
The more it is dug.
Desires spilling from brimmed cupids
There are no incentives
And no inclinations to hold back
Until the days of sored backs.
Nothing is needed or indeed asked for
But everything is primed forth
Through insinuation and induction.
Control is laid bare
And its assumption is made clear.
Only if we knew better
That it’s all clouds
Thick, formless and gaseous air.
We know not
So we grapple on loose ends
And tighten feigned knots.
We can’t decipher that it’s all imagery
Virtual, conjured images.
And when we turn and expect to be chased
We are disappointed in our folly
As it had never been about us
All was ever in times and passing.
Accumulated gasms and tended expulsions-
Time and wants.
Until love makes us dream
Of nothing sweet or slew
But actual views of years ahead,
Until we can’t even dream
Because we are fully awake
Thinking about distant souls
Which draw simple, honest smiles,
Until love makes us see ourselves
In someone else’s clear view,
Nothing is ever gonna change.
We are all just gonna keep playing
The exciting game of wants.