Obsession

This one is so old and full of words that I'm almost embarrassed to put it up here. I say almost, because I'd be a lot more embarrassed if I believed that anybody was going to read it. XXX

Obsession, like all unfounded loves, dies quietly,
I have found. A lonely beggar, forced into a corner
By its own fierce pity, turns in on itself and vanishes.
Vanishes just as you lay down food and drink
For its famine. Melts into the air that breathed it
Hotly and forgets itself for forgetting to feed.

And it's a hollow, custom pain that fuels
Obsession. Pain as needful as it is needed.

To revel in the roots of obsession is to grind
Your whole world into chalk and run blindly
Through your own open eyes painted as a traitor.
It is impossible to lose yourself in a known world,
Where daggers unfurl like trapdoors, and sinking
Is the only broken hole left to lie down in.

Find a shallow piece of feeling, plant a burning seed
Of never wanted hope and watch as you are consumed
By a taken flame. Throw drunken posies until the smoke
Flies brighter than sun shaped arms. You never knew
It would always feel like this.