A Note in the Margins

I have a friend who wants to love me

But only with obstruction

Wants to bear witness to a mad expanse of passion and hold ceremony for the sensual

But refrains space for the existential ponderance of monotony, unaware of it's intrinsic ritual

The trees tempting the devil

The flower named of the sun

A heart weighted by stones

Chaos, composed of by a simple, playful nature

Sought of dimension

They will not know the wild thread I weave