Assimilation is mine, so forlorn does it bloom

To behold the abyss, the source of my gloom.

My heart and my soul hold an unappeasable need
To care, to be cared about, to see and be seen,
Unique, and so special, that no other share
In the choice and the depths of an incomparable care.

Now seeing the compulsion rather than feeling it's form
And it's remarkable dearth is why
I'm forlorn Impatience slashes at the time that I need
To straighten this out, and oh, my heart bleeds.

Now clearly I see just all this extends,
And clearly I see just what it all ends.
I'm sure that you now must feel so relieved
And I suppose, that in fact, you're actually pleased.


February 22, 1995