Cognitive core exposed, inebriated,
Best intentions fade, immaterial,
A burning need bubbles, intracranial,
A wanting, a wanting for you, incessant.

Your presence, overwhelming, immediate.
Promises made, wither, insignificant,
Regressing to a newborn, immature,
Forfeiting self-respect, inadequate.
​
The lizard brain triumphs, immutable,
Shedding society, inarticulate,
I surrender self-control, inglorious:
I seek your touch, intangible. 

You have set your claws in me,
And I wager not by accident.
Gentle chains by cunning mind sent;
A smile for only my eyes to see.

Am I another instrument,
Whose strings you pluck at will?
The binds keened, then sat still:
Tear as I might, I made no dent.
​
I basked in your bright attention,
And gloom fell when it was withheld.
Yet by this injustice compelled,
I play the game toward ascension.

​Can caring for someone ever be a crime?
Perhaps not in of itself, but over time,
Evil acts have been justified this way...
So, would silence make me the hero today?
The thought-tempest threatens to escape the bind
That has been keeping it restrained in my mind.
So much effort is needed to keep control,
As if what’s raging to break free is my soul.
But then, should my wants, desires, be denied?
Or for once my selflessness be pushed aside?
I want to tell you how I feel, odds be damned,
In the end, if then shut, the lid needs be slammed,
And the tempest forced back under lock and key,
At least then perhaps I can again be free.
I know that wanting someone very much,
Will not simply net you their tender touch,
And that this is no game; much is on the line,
Feelings can flounder, sink, and not only mine.
This is, after all, your time of greatest stress,
Last thing you need is for me to make a mess.
I can’t responsibly rock this boat of ours,
When keeping you from harm is beyond my powers.
But perhaps I underrate your fortitude,
And together we could weather this storm-feud.

Conventional wisdoms abound for all conceivable situations.
Convenient that both they, and their opposites are usually true.
Is a better exemplification required than that of
“Opposites attract” yet “birds of a feather flock together”?
So, let me pick the one that underscores my current point…
​
Can there be a trap better than one you lay for yourself?
This has never happened before, a perfect mosaic,
With a void of just the perfect shape and size to fit this piece.
So many coin tosses have yielded the correct results,
So many threads of the tapestry came together just so.
Defying entropy, has stochastic motion constructed
This wonder just for my personal benefit?
Surely, this can’t just be mere chance?
This would be a song not our world if this were true.
So, there is a minor catch of course. A tiny snag.
That spot, that perfect spot, is occupied by another piece.
Looks to fit well enough, as can be judged at a distance.
Its aptitude is irrelevant though; it is not my piece.
So, what would be the sane thing to do?
Walk away. Find another prospective puzzle.
Plenty of fish in the sea as conventional wisdom would have it.
Maybe it won’t be this perfect, but it could be shaped.
Instead, something draws me back,
And I labour to make the hypothetical fit even better,
Or prove to myself how good it would be indeed.
And the more I convince myself,
The harder it is to wrench away.
A combination of sunk cost fallacy and blind optimism,
But no less potent for the lack of subtlety.
And while I curse myself for a fool,
With the image of the mosaic burnt into my head,
I seem to have lost self-control to its perceived potential.
But the scariest thing is, that blinded as I am,
I cannot tell if I have merely woven this tapestry
From strands of fancy with my neuronal loom,
If it is merely my reflection that I cast,
That has little and less to do with you.
Perhaps that fit is not so great after all,
Only the projection makes it seem as such.
Or can both be true at the same time?
Maybe both patterns exist and are in phase,
Constructively interfering as they intertwine.
But no, I think I’m just a tailor cursed
With an abundance of ethereal thread.

​Red and blooming Cloud Nine,
I want you to be mine!
 
Shock my synapses into action,
I need a hormonal overreaction!
Set my rusting circuits ablaze,
Start a neurotransmitter-craze!
Grant me a boon oh great Queen,
Give me the gift of dopamine,
Let me bathe in your holy blood,
So I can ride on the endorphin flood.

​Did I see excitement in your eyes,
Or am I just telling myself new lies?
If this is all my make-believe,
I will need my hopes to leave.
I am bound by inhibition,
Hindered by indecision,
A terrible reader of signs,
You need to feed me the lines.
There’s too much at stake;
I’m terrified of making a mistake.
Some things are worth fighting for,
But unarmed, I cannot win this war.
Save me from this mental mire,
Before I’m wound up any higher.
…
Lift me out of my confusion!

​Open up your soul to me,
So much there for me to see!
You give me purpose and strength,
You resonate on my wavelength,
Our frequencies all in phase,
Tell me you share my dopamine-daze!
I fell in your vacuum trap,
All our orbitals overlap,
We’ve got the symmetry,
Obvious for all to see.

​I'm enthralled by your oddity,
It is a rare commodity.
Yours is a mind of butterflies,
To me like butter to the flies,
And as you sleepwalk through this life,
Your eyes wide, opaque, childlike,
Mischief follows in your wake,
Like a sweet little earthquake.