passion is the will of circumstance lost in the chaos of rational thought

momentarily felt satisfied with everything

fear and swift acknowledgement of anger were gone

and i realized i am a monster

caring only for beauty

and have always been this thing

despite conscious protest

i realized that i

have never written a love poem

have never said a beautiful thing

have never seen a beautiful thing

and am directionless in this task

where are you

i want to see you tonight

i will lie awake waiting

to see you tonight

for you to call me drunk on wine

and varied conversation

a single concerned thought of me having crossed your mind

and you will repeat the words ‘i don’t know myself’

but instead, you won’t call me

you will feel unsure and non-committal

and i will feel insane and move rapidly through space

and a monster will roar

'this isn’t intense enough'

‘i can’t lose myself in this’