I fool existence,
By my patience,
I drool in silence,
By my incompetence,
Deeper to the eyes,
And lost to demise,
The dealer of lies,
Sends chronic butterflies,
Our tendric attraction,
Of physical reaction,
Fills anticipation,
Of annihilation,
I circle the shapes,
Then mirror the fate,
To both eye’s crates,
Holding my escape..
Luc Laverdure