and gone, all sense

and questioning the extent
of my vision

and being snared by something simple
as a voice

and to inquire, internally,
of one’s taste

and second-guessing
that redolent fragrance

and to sit in the wonder
of one’s touch

and to find lost processes
in a quandary

and decline into
the distrust of my agency

beneath the strange tutelage of a whisper

and to revel in the ecstasy
of dreams

and to torture the soul
with a longing

and all at once,
in a flash,
gone the senses

and it’s all over
for a mad wanting
of the wanted

©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell 

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Author: Kevin Trent Boswell

Kevin Trent Boswell is a thing that once blinked briefly in and out of existence. It made noises and gestures while it lasted. The exact nature of its demise is unclear. Some sources say it collapsed beneath the weight of entropy and time. Other tertiary evidence suggests the possibility that it was destroyed by a predator, an accident, or perhaps even by itself. The truth of the matter is unknown. Luckily, no one cares.

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