Sanity is breaking
loose, and insanity is all I have left.
I am cleft to its
bosom, trapped like a child
Clinging to the only
support that my developing hands can grasp.
I am a newborn, a
halfbreed of all that I was, all that I am.
I am dependant on you
for succour, you feed me with your touch;
I need you to let me
taste you, to remember your scent
To breath deeply of the
dew that seeps from my touch
To bind myself in the
unending torrent of feeling
And to die for a while
in that certain je ne sais quoi.
