No Rhyme or Reason

sweet the scent i gather from behind your ear, And habit-forming are the contours of your tranquil lips. A poem of love from a mad man!

You leave me candid,

With a burning angst.

A wounded beast that's branded 

With loves piercing honey taste.

Oh sweet the scent i gather from behind your ear,

And habit-forming are the contours of your tranquil lips.

That now i see myself confined, a rabbit in a snare,

As you stroke my fur with an endearing glance.

The only time your eyes depress,

Are when they look unto the mirror on my wall.

You see defiled flesh, chewed up and swallowed by a painful past,

Yet i observe a temple unto which my eyes repetitively stall.

I graze your being, body, mind and soul,

As if a hungry oxen through untouched pasture.

To the point of Alexander who conquered worlds,

You are the last and only world I hope to capture.

What is this never ending angst I feel,

As if the life I've lived unto this day is worthless. 

And with your presence i beckon to your rosy heel,

And send worship of a thousand grateful kisses. 

I want to slit my wrist to show you that the blood i bleed is yours,

That I'm mere mortal and can offer nothing more than worldly substance.

That you are Helen and the reason that they started wars,

10'000 men no less, would fall and die, just for a second of your godly glance.

I scream at your angelic face "why light the pitch black cave that I inhabit"?

For don't you know, a blind man who has seen, can not accept the dark.

What happens when you lose your interest in your new pet rabbit,

Is there still life? or do the waves from brooding storms drown me, Noah, and you my ark?

Through all these frenzied tremors, I know, to you I look insane,

And by that cold b***h, Murphy and her laws, I am a self fulfilling prophecy.

That its best I keep my mouth shut and not treat these days in vain,

but still my brain is doubt until explained the inexplicable anomaly.

Why me?

...

And yet you're here, and all you do is look and smile.

You stroke my hair and say there nothing to be done. 

"I'm yours, you're mine" no rhyme or reason.

The world is conquered, the war is won.