Wildnerness. It's everywhere I look. We may think sometimes, that we are apart from wildnerness, in the way we live by the invention of clocks. The sun, though, is wild. The rain is wild. Love and sleep are wild. If you love, you love wildly. How else? How else?
The way a fantasy swims around my head
I think I'll drown for tender, yearning dreams
that never die, 'til he brings me to bed,
and every gasp is sent down full blood streams.
I'm constant, gorging on my plans to ruin
his ordered life and sense for blind romance.
I trust Anais for the tactics strewn
across his mind; a wild electric trance.
I, naturally, want the timing perfect,
but the stress of execution is profound.
Pursual's weak and clumsy, I reflect.
The only way it works is without sound.
When bodies, though, are lead to be unbound,
too many minds are left alone, confound.