Temptations and Torment

I'm obsessed with assiduity like a moth is drawn to flame in a place where flint and steel have become somewhat estranged.

A lamp long draped in cobwebs, forgotten light guttering, illuminated glass thrilled to draw the arrhythmia of wingbeat fluttering.

A seed may wish the same as the seasons come to pass, to drown upon the witching hour before dawn can quench its thirst like the dew on summer grass.

I wish for you to crave me like a vulture does a feast who is long lost in a dessert made of bone. I am a grain amongst the sand that makes up an oasis if only you would dream of a place you can call home.

I'm obsessed with rapt attention like the moon is to its tides, as if a heartbeat made of gravity it what pulls at my insides

So I will dance to its staccato, feet thrown up in glee , please, my moves will whisper to you, please just notice me.

I parade insomniatic musings from my fingertips to paper and think maybe you can read between the lines but the words are hieroglyphic even with the point specific as a wildfire can be called a flame, because I'm not sure when it comes to choosing light, that two moths can even ever dream of light the same.