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Click herean august passion for you.
a festering
mental voice
beyond a whisper
going in one ear
and in the other
a convicing immoral
conviction
as i recognize my
affliction
the attempts sometimes
may be forced
out of necessity;
faked, but not fake
by a longshot
my sure shot
its your shot
baring my mind
while you bear in mind that
all this is pumped out
persuaded
and jaded
because of a stroke
back in may.
i may never stop
who knows
lucky you
lovely you
see me through, seeing right through
a non existant fakey
even if the words
don't come to me so easy
or swarm me like gnats
i never fucking fake it
with you.
It says a lot...subtly at first, then resonating at the end.
I should have known;
such deep-felt passion can only be
a creature bred deep in the South,
whether native, or a late-bloomer.