The Good, The Bad and The Unbearable

The good part says that when you are flailing in the middle of it,
the end is a tangible object, just out of your reach.
The bad part catches you jerked from a shallow dream,
fists clenched full of not-the-tangible-object.
The unbearable lack of faith lurks wondering
What object?

It is a good thing our peach-white moon
is tucked so deep inside the blue velvet night;
I want so badly to grab even the fruitskin of its labor,
chew myself incandescent to what must
be a seed waiting.
Unbearable to think a thief has been
nibbling away at our waxing gibbous and
spitting out the stars in mockery.

Desire, an intangible wave of fruitless energies,
is, in theory, better than it is bad
And somehow, most unbearable.

ABOUT: the subtle danger of wanting