nothing to see.
Heard only whispers, and
touched only dreams.
A deed to be done,
commissioned and flung.
For an itch needed scratching;
a rash not yet sprung.
Temptation is torment, and
release will reveal.
Tis a foolish fandango,
that speaks the sins of your soul.
Waiting, and waiting.
Fidget and think.
Fingers get creepy:
when they can't keep still.
Up and down; over - across;
the terrain of the table.
But that is no relief.
So plunge not yet taken.
Transgression tomorrow?
Will the light be the same as this dark electric hum.
Fear the rocky, rapid moment
that wrestles, rips and tears.
Taken, taken over, the edge.
To the abyss.
You'll fall down, be pulled down:
down deep, down quick.
No rest, nor release.
Just a broken, fallen angel.
An echo, like so many, that have fallen here before.
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