Hiding in a foggy corner | A certain inexplicable power.
Lurking, hovering over consciousness | All things real deemed quite worthless.
Then pouncing, rearing its ugly head and lurching | Until it itself is the only truth.Reality succumbs.
Obliterating all other thought. | Oblong vision; blurry, unwrought.
I grapple, struggling to grasp it.
I quiver, a bit motion-sick.
I amusedly worry, I edgily wonder
Is it love or is it panic?