Impulse

Spontaneity woven, self-indulgence driven Oh the countless secrets beneath this skin Emotionally stolen by a moment given By death. That wolf whose teeth are sin Spawning now are drops like rain With a life span like that of just a vapor The moment lasts, then stops again The enveloped anthem of a forgotten caper Puddles dry. Evaporation The itch remains beneath the calm Awaiting my great transformation I hold the book and read a psalm