decadence

The last roses of college.


On a whim:

My will is enslaved to you
My nerves dance from morsels of you
My thoughts, my heart
My ache, my counterpart
Yes, red is what I see, feel, taste of you.
But after each ephemeral visit
I sit and think, what is it?
Is it your round shape?
Your smell?
No, your taste?
With pockets empty and breathing heavy
I think out the labyrinth of your spells.
I cast off your seductions
Reason out your empty functions
And still I find myself at a junction.
Still wanting
Still waiting
Breathless, I am anticipating.
Alas, what's the use
And why the big fight
Let's just have a good night
So in you go little sushi.

I was just thinking how wonderful my life would be as a food critic since it combines two things I love: food and writing. If you also didn't know, I am addicted to sushi. No amount of metal can keep me away. Everyone has an Achilles heel. Or stomach.