Contained in the isolation of my contentment, doing what brings one happiness and savagely bruises the egos of those who wrote the fictional scenes in which I conform to such rules and regulations given in borrowed speculations.
There...There where the nails divy themselves through splintered wood passing through this heart as it screams for individualized characteristics to set one apart from the shepherds herd.
Eyes sewn shut in passive aggressive opinions that sight is what is seen reflected in my blue ignorance.
Imagination trumps the weight of blindness forced upon me at birth, I see more than meets the judging eye, but all that is hidden in the space between the soils of the burdened and the untouchable depths of the heartless.
Could be the infinite fire that toasts the forest trees from beneath the mask of bark shielding the blind that believe they have seen all able to be seen.
Feel it...Feel the breeze grow warm in the brewing pot of gurgling slop fed to us on silver spoons to choke upon.
Choke up these words in haste as they search for the pages that rewrite the ending they created, as an army sets forth to stand against all that I mold into their imprint, disfiguring the image they have in mind.
Cut loose these fraying ropes tying me to this hole in midst of fictional stories they repeat in my ears as would a taunting lover, hoping to caress me with falsified promises to submission in protecting arms.
No hold is needed for I cloak myself in these lines, baring this flesh to the world to be scorned for the evil doings of brilliance inked in the blood of the mocking voices in my head at all times.
Aim to cut through this barrier, to relinquish the walls around me to ash at the feet of the defeated and walk among the lilies, basking in the sunlight rehearsing mornings in a glance.
The dew sticks to my skin, feel the perspiration of new days flood this sight with vengeance. Seek out I do, what truth lies in the no man's lands of these corridors that allow me venture in thought...
Carry on this walk...feed me all that is and quench my thirst in the notion that there is always more than is presented in a meeting.
Kissed the clouds in their ever changing, ever tricking the eye appearance, knowing at second glance they be untouched, newly formed desires to drink of.
Spun a web to catch the insults that haunt the throned surface of my walk under the moon in all its glory, overshadowed by this ever-bending branch I lay to dream, to bed.
Where one rests a weary head, the mind sleeps never reinventing the second hand striking time pass by the minutes of breath to weave.
Reconstructed criticism overheard and this pen shakes in pain, in loss of the unrequitted, unraveled mystery it fights to bring life.
Rituals be mere burdens, lighting candles to consummate this moment in bask of shadows on the walls of my sub conscious swaying undirectional in this rendition of spasms as they claw and mark the memory at the clocks hour.
Soured are the fruits of cunning tongues preaching their disillusion within the winded speech. As long as this air flows least a bit, long live the words on my pages. Even in fires dwindling to soot beneath the mantle, my picture holds a pen to continue the scrawl...though the canvas has aged, though skin bare the life lines, though death move closer with every moment, my ink seeps through the years....
Cursing all in the memory of the day the barriers burned in my fire.
And those that dare see, leave me to wake again to feed their desire....
Desire is need and I need for everything, but nothing.
