Compulsion Smith

If you are wise, my vacancy is

If you are kind, my sickness is

Can I lay gently, my love you’ve earned it

You are granted grace for the pay of a cyclic few minutes

The wise will think I am lost, the kind knows fading is safety

Spinning humorously careless, circled paths striving to be hasty

My compulsion smith, will keep burning her coals

The incapacitating embers promising doubtful control

Preventing the chest, expanding and collapsing

Planned muffled senses, armor made of steel and passing

Is repetition the secret for those who were raised for longing?

Fear freezes the past, makes the present starving

Should we break free from the bind of black and white days?

Rejoice in what’s beautiful and in a multitude of gray

Thank you regal companion, for your gentleness when my mind is far

I love you so much, for your clarity in this muddled bizarre

Your eyes are hurt, what joys do you feel for me?

Can you assure my fragile state for all of eternity?

Eyes glazed over, mind is ever the rapture

Was an indulgence of thought the insidious fracture?

Thank you for your patience, you know me better than I know myself

Childlike softness, intermittently kept on the tallest shelf

I am ever grateful, to see the laughter grow on your face

Those with ease in this existence, show me the way