I ask Kabir's pardon.

I said to the wanting-creature inside...
Please go away.
Reality does not measure up.

Hands on marble are my hands on you.
Skin - then disbelieving fingers trace rock-hard core.
And it just doesn't happen again.
So we have a thousand sleepless nights.

Makes no sense, my reality.
No sense at all.

I said, again, to the wanting-creature inside...
This was so.
It can be again.

She doesn't believe me.
"It was the Universal Tease."
Makes no fucking sense.


Actually... She's not a tease. The Universe.
She's the Realist.
My mind is the fucking Tease.

I am good. I do good. I believe.
And still I sleep - or don't sleep. alone.
It's not the Universe. She gave me what I wanted.
I saw what it was.
I know what it is.
And I still want it, knowing.
THAT is why I am alone.

I want that which I am better off alone, wanting - than having.

I am the Universal Tease.
Fucking mind.
Please. Get. Real.
So I can have a Reality.