These great beings
adhere air to earth,
Draw fire and water
To nurture our birth,
Rebreath as we breath,
Furnish home, and warm hearth,
Hold histories and mysteries
Still roots we unearth.
We great unseeing.

Concieved perceptions
Perceive conceptions,
But where sits inception,
As child's conception's
Defined: "pregnancies inception,"
But what worth's that definition?!
Dazed by repetition, losing ambition.
Where sits inception?

If sins of the father are sins of the son,
and new sins are born with each days sun.
After so many cycles,  what'd you think we'd become?

Feeling lost from light,
while some lack sight.
Claim cogency ironically,
then cower from fight.
Is this might,
this fear of strife?
25, handsome, bright,
and still yearning for knife?!
Deserving of life?

As diminishing as time, structural integrity of life line, I know I'll get there either way, but I'd like to sense this world a few more days. Or maybe more if I believe these words, and if it's all just senses how are any obsurde. Trying to view the world through other's eyes has left me sunken low and worse yet blind. So I guess it's best to be alone, if to these things you find you're prone. These decaying bar-like walls that we call home just keep a man and mind unfree to roam. But one day I'll break away from this grey cage, and in this aging book, write a new page. I was a fool to think it all so linear, shouted answers fall on broken ears. Just posing questions refusing to hear, it seems I've become my greatest fear. And as it diminishes with time, structural integrity of my mind. I accept that I'll get there either way, but I'd like to sense this world a few more days.

So sickeningly sinusoidal
Start subtle simmer
Then brought to boil
Drop down ******
Hid from helping hand
Bastardized brain
Beguilingly​ inane
Insane?
Refrain.
Different definition
As all's a supposition
Strengthening stand
Contained. In command
Now tower over toil
Sad synapses spark dimmer
So surreally sinusoidal