62. Anti-time.

My head and my heart dangle from a thread,
Suspicions and love mixed up by what you've said.
What I see I sometimes hate, in bed with another,
Inccurs me to berate.
It rips, nostrils flared, chest filled,
A captured scent held to infinity.
And oh the vision beholding my eye,
Blinding of mind and overpowering of sense.
Mentally tormented on a detoured path,
These things I try to recapture as I journey
With slow progress in this castrating Anti-time.

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