Time running away
In a slow motion quagmire,
Rotting away
In an addiction wasteland.
Look in the mirror
Wrists to the sky
He looks back
On your lips
Only salt.

Head going nowhere,
Mind out of control.

Walking in circles,
No way back home.

Minerva,
My soul.
Come wash me away .

My morning my life my love.
I can't get over you.
Turning at the corners of my mind.

Bright lights, noises,
My mind is overcome.
My body rips around my neck,
My mind is not my own.

Glowing hands make pretty signs,
Enticing overtones.
Come closer, into the nether realm,
All I know, I'm not my own.

In a crystal, I am a butterfly.
I walk when I should run.
In a dream world, I fly, another life,
A body. Never mine to own.

This mind of concubines.
Of slaves to all I want.
My needs have become a metaphor,
For wrongs not quite my own.

Maybe in the real world,
I'll find my way back home.
Until then, I ride this downward *****,
I've made this life my own.

The ****,
Becomes a flower,
Returns to soil,
And turns to stone.

Ready the horses,
Wax clean the saddle.
I'm riding again.
To battle, to the end.

As he pulled the creature closer to his lips,
He paused.
He felt his arms pull away,
He felt his throat close.
So innocent. So friendly.
He felt the creatures cold, silky embrace pine for him to drink.
He looked at the creature.
Silent.
Inanimate, but bubbling with possibilities.
He allowed his lips to touch the creature,
To kiss the rift at the end of turning back .
He sipped. He drank. He guzzled.
He drowned in the creature as it caressed an unquenchable thirst.
And then the creature was gone.
No matter. There are many more.
His eyes filled with desire, he took another one, and allowed insatiable need to fill his mind.