Brood

Sweet moments of lust can fall from thoughts.
Memories of bodies, moving together.
With purpose.
If the imagination is full of fire,
Lovers never part.
They just all fade into one.
Together.
What a wonderful madness it must be,
To live within imagination.
The rest of the fools.
Flesh hungry and alone.
Trying to know the right path.
As if we can choose.
I tried.
A few times.
Each time really thinking it was the right way.
But it has again lead to the nothingness.
Safe, easy nothing.
It would be sad, I guess, if it hurt.
But the worst of it is boredom.
Which doesn’t leave marks.
And is very treatable.
I wish I cared.
More.
Then maybe I would fight.
For something.
But, hey!
I already have the Nothing.