By Now, I'm So Alone

A romantic interest.  
I want one of those.  
I can buy myself food. I can buy myself knowledge. I can buy myself  
if I was trending on the black market.  
 
But these feelings are priceless.  
The distance is not just a mile or so. It is one mind to another.  
Supercedent to sex and titillation,  
a plane on which the souls walk in the obscurity of the pectoral escavation.  
 
I can point to the light.  
There, I see it.  
But the bulb won't brighten my mind.  
 
If you have a heart, let it love. Let it love.  
If I could trade for another tongue.  
 
The damsel  
is not in distress.  
She has a roof over her head and the gold of the dragon.  
 
But the protagonist wears the shield.  
The protagonist is so feeble and afraid.  
He would be treason to passion.  
 
Help me.  
I say to you.  
 
Rapunzel, is your hair not long enough,  
your locks not fair enough,  
your ends not kept enough,  
that I might die of loneliness, out here in my liberty?  
 
Too much freedom can unscrew a man,  
and he will fear, wallow in his privilege until another man with a subtle tease of a woman's tender palm  
goes to overtake him,  
lacerate the wondering brain from the loitering, whereto body  
and thus be the end of Desperado.