AN: Just trying to get myself out of a creative rut by playing with some poetry.
Mania
Their voices caress
In sweet, intimate embraces
Eyes once dim, alive
With pupils dilated
Just inebriated with a mention
Of His name
One not spectacular
But perhaps outdated
Yet flawless in itself
To gather reactions
Like the second coming
Of The Beatles.
They wish their hands
Could bring the pleasure
Those voices make
To touch their desire
As He has touched them
Or do they only
See what they want
And live in the surreal
However once in the presence
Of He with the Holy Name
Would find fault
In assumed perfection?