I am flaccid, Spent.
The popular use of the word is a perfect metaphor.
I feel the fact of the strength
I have the urge to use the strength
But the strength eludes my grasping
Lacking of the apropriate stimulus
For too long, and with too much intensity did my candle burn
Spent. Flaccid. Consumed
Unable to have the passion,
perhaps just unable to experiance it
to possess it, to be possessed by it.
A wick is spent, gone, as real and unobtainable as time
the wax wasted, though.
too much discarded and strewn
gathered, and a new reason; a new wick,
then, a new candle...
Only, what is the wick?
the reason?
the stimulus?