As each second pricks,
I will each minute to vanish,
to banish each hour,
for the days to grow wings and fly -
until you inhabit my living fantasy
see me spread and raw -
my being.

My stomach’s seat -
a simmering,overflowing cauldron
enveloping me, drowning me -
a vacillating, compulsive motion.

And, if
I could
just bridge
that gap
between
now and then.

My eyes sweep shut -
a minefield of imagination
springs.
My fingers touch
my languid lips
and as I throw back my head
I laugh out loud
and wonder why
I wish
my life away.