Gaining into a Better Mind

You do not hear do you,
the evil voice in the head
atop your own Atlas shoulders:
but those words and patterns
push to one edge
of your personal world
all of the good in you.

A hill to crest
and an open field
blooming with all-over white
and yellow/gold:
pleasure-principle -
more is better; open, greater.
The sun is large/rising.

Your skin glitters darkly,
avoiding sensual ecstasy:
Yes, you don't let them touch you,
but still, I see some portion -
a light breeze perhaps -
grazes an open-area -
the back of a hand.

Dark moody turbulence
rules in a sense-seeking brain -
sought in seclusion;
veins are for blood.
Yes.
Grievous are faults that gripe
when you suffer under needle-point.

You have distance from inside
to the page,
and gain respect:
what is underneath/wraps
that darkens ink to touch whiteness
and float, inside to out? -
I am gaining into you.