I Adhere To Nothing But To The Pages Of A Book

Packaging tape seals a suspicious cardboard box
let me deal with it please.
I can never fumigate a sweet forest
lest I leave the stove on
while I crossbreed lilies and foxgloves.
Exotic is to esoteric
as in many ways of the subconscious
levels of the human brain,
I want to give you my everything
and to always tell the truth.
Am I equal enough,
balanced, and stable?
A gemini simultaneously women
acting on illusions of running somewhere,
where to, the cushion shares my impressions
of my body.
I have clearly never been moving fast enough.

Even as the title states is a lie.
I have not read a book in two months.
I adhere to nothingness,
like particles in space.
I adhere, perhaps, to the chair
because it reads sloth.
I am a sinner.