Full Moon… or PMS

— Bonnie George

What is that indescribable tug
That surges within on the fullest of moons?
Theories abound, surround and confuse, adding to this
Disquieting mystery of my lunatic behavior

Whatever it is that seeps through the caves of my helpless being
Is hidden in the deepest, darkest oceans of my soul
Surfacing timely with that unfathomable tug.
It rips at the tide within me
Until it froths and peaks, forcing my emotions to charged pinnacles
Humbling thoughts and crushing humor
Riding the crests of never-ending, raging waves

I lust for unknown satisfaction
I lust for unknown revenge
I lust for unknown power
I lust, I lust, damn it…
For what do I lust?

It finally ebbs and crashes what is left of me upon the jagged rocks of
Exhaustion—my emotions wallowing to and fro
Like sandy fragments of futile nothingness

Relieved, spent, floating on calm waters
I seem uncaring and unaware of the devastating impact on my
Now impatient world—my wondering, accusing, thrashed-out world
Faced with the start of yet another cycle
Dreading the welling up, the rising tide, the unknown
Lustful war within—
That all-consuming, indescribable tug

One thought on “Full Moon… or PMS

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