why my hand's out what i want from you some sort of glue & my life planned out my days & nights stand out, with you i'm consumed by your point of you & how you hand it out from my hush, i fuss about it not with disgust; i pout, i'm a pouter just pouting my wants, without shouting something about your absence as if, you didn't already notice, you're absent as if, i don't already know, you wanna bite me all over & how bad you wanna overdose me with passion insinuating impatience with innuendos, to mask it & mend those, gasp &, sighs, silent cries, through piercing eyes that act as windows to sadness the alluring reassurance & distractions, replaces the places yearning to be embraced by you clasping me, like lassoing each term of endearment, is safe; it has to be faced by your distaste; mirrored by your appearance & awareness hearing you peer in, asking me, sincerely why does this have to be, nearly a catastrophe for you to hear me, or for me to get clearance, to magically, see clearly i can't control you feeling the same, still i’m kneeling, your majesty i’m here & not veering, cause feeling the same, don't change pain just fast forwards me, into your lane absorbing my pleads, gorgeously in your brain getting you accustomed to someone you're not a accustomed to, to sustain