Like a lover confessing,
I will follow through once I have spit out my first word.
Atmosphere placid, like a sober summer doldrum;
lucid, like the squelch of shit hitting fan.
The vicious cycle's eye deserted by desire and compunction -
cupio dissolvi.
I dreamt a storm.
Aqua pura pouring out the outlets
of a home possessed by obsession,
released in flood -
I dreamt I awoke
and knew it all was all right.
I sprezzed a tura undermind:
a waking dream
But I shoegaze numbly, reaching for the handle.
I could throw this all away.
I could botch all of this
with the slip of a finger.