Habit

Almost down for the count,
Splitting open from the inside out.
I smell her...
Can't think that way right now.
Got a whole big other thing going on too.
Got a whole bunch of life being lived up here,
Locked in a little house on a rainy night, and busy-brained.
One way or another, or both;
Does that work?
Probably not.
Habit is habitat of natural dissent accommodated.
Hiding in the back round,
It's easier.
I see a present so radiant I can't think of anything else,
But it's wrapped in a golden lining of such material
That my hands, and any other tool at my disposal,
Are ill-equipped to breach inside,
To gain entry to the heart of the prize,
And I don't want my undeserving hands
Handling such a beautiful thing;
Just doesn't seem right.
Can't solve the dilemma.
Can't feel natural at all right now.
Sort of swimming in too much stimulation.
Dazed by a dance of bliss and occupation.
Like a country giving way to the next great ruler,
I've surrendered my hope to preserve my homeland,
And am falling prey to something bigger
Than I have the strength to study and beat.

My waters run deep;
My expanse is immeasurable,
But only when I feel complete.
So there's time to spend
Until that happens again.