Another sleepless night,
because a face won't leave.
Or do I tempt it to stay.
A race begins.
The heart.
The mind.
The spirit.
All thrown round the corners.
You grip as tight as you can,
daring to push further and further.
You move towards catastrophe,
and immortality,
each a side of the razor's edge.
When there's no time for fear,
primal instinct is your guide.
It is wild
and savage
and free!
The moment passes,
leaving you skittering out!
Out into the unknown black.
When certainty is gone,
she lets you know what it feels to be alive. 

A red splash on a canvas,
that was covered in dreary brown,
heavy black,
mildew yellow,
shocks the senses.
The monotonous colors smeared high,
like mountains of Mordor,
sludge the the once white sheet.
In them life is a spiritless trek.
One that most know and accept,
confined for so long in a bland prison.
But the red is new,
something primal,
yet long forgotten.
Like fresh blood,
or the smell of sex in the air.
It sings deep into the caverns.
To hearken it's call,
is to give in to assured destruction.
To not is living death.

Stuck in a job with dirty walls.
Peeling plaster and cheap wallpaper
accompany me. 
The T.v. is showing
another commercial
that I do not wish to see.
It's telling me, while selling me,
a lifestyle of now.
I look at the fixings, the unhinged door,
and the escape box on my wall.
I close my eyes and think of trees in the fall,
someplace that I've been before. 

Writing, like bad poetry comes from the ego.
I do not know how to strip it naked.
The false promises of the world whispered by snake oil.
It doesn't go up or down.
And the end.

Curtains move with a breeze.
The light plays on the wall.
First, full sail. Then closed modern robe.
The hot sweat sex, leaves the sheets damp.
Or the sick body shivers and sweats.
Parallels of a diseased mind.

I speak not of holy harmony,
for I have only glanced that way.

I started on this road looking for something new.
I was set to be a savant,
an original.
Up their with Pablo, Hitchcock, and Rembrandt.
But I never started down a path,
each was already tread.
I thought it wasn't worth it.
I was stuck in my head,
a place of no escape,
where excuses kept me hostage.
Always a reason to never go.
The bullshit piled up,
the ego grew,
but I was not happy
it was my heart that knew.
So,
I moved.

This man in my head,
became a monster instead.
A mythical beast to slay.
Inhabited with greed,
it filled my need
to be better then he.
But, now I see,
the veil of deception dropped,
that he is just as human as I.
To let go of the competition,
the hate, and moral superiority,
has let me free.

Another late night,
Alone with the rain.
Pitter, patter drops blend
with the soft noise of music
coming from my radio.
It leads me mind back to a time,
when a warm body lay next to me
listening the rain.
My emotions mirror my lonely thoughts.
But the song comes on,
just
in time,
to take me away again.

Patience for the answers.
Some questions are not ready.
They must truly fester,
before they bloom
in your mind.
Awakening a sense of wonder,
and an inkling of a thought,
that you may have more influence
on the world around,
then could possibly be imagined.

Less tangible then paper,
these keystrokes are nothing.
But, that is what makes it so special.
My words in your head with no other connection.
And even though you may not know me,
and I may never you,
here we are talking.
So, I just want you to know,
whoever you are,
wherever you are,
just know
you are loved.

Home,
I want to go.
Just to fall apart
and start again.
Home,
That's where I want to go.
To pick up all the little pieces,
once again.
To rest my weary bones,
to ease my troubled mind,
to see my things (long forgotten),
My life,
My hearth,
My home.