I am shell
Captivated with the weight of fear
Patterned, mesmerism, predatorial magnetism
Obtuse in angle to the sky
With power born in grace of the lake
Sharper than shield I be before thine wake
To pry emotional flux from harm
And coat it in here
The statuary of further life held sweet
In calcified virtue of longing to live
Deep in shell
Asylum for essence
Board under adventure in the sense
That
We are colleagues in purpose
To you
I am shell

Bleed out my thoughts and distill it
Create a pain I can drink
And dwell on in spastic sorrow as night grows old
Bottle dries up
Ask for addiction to inspiration
Change my mind when Monday is here
But pencil meet paper come the night after
My wind to caution hold steady
To the spout, always ready
Except for when it matters most
Now
...

Gone with the casket to behold
What I deem tired and old
As an elder betrays my hopes
And listens to every trope
Of an ending where I bring no thought to the table
Fabled in the mind of the third that had heard a word
Beyond the scourge of the purge occurring
In the hand procuring
The glee
The joy
The life founded with heart and handled like a toy
In the gleam's fourteen it glimmer
With the shimmer of ash, to ween
And be clear in time
To fear without wine
A running case of Brandy, drunk with a hand so sandy
Of our edges to sea what be
Collective hearts of Pangaea, dubbed colossal
Sink in the sea of Panthalassa
Drown inside a coffin of wine
And make it mine
Mine
Behold a drowning dream
Further from sea than it may seem

Why is the burden of me bestowed onto others
Spun myself into a story of inferred
I never ask for it to occur
But the sediment of thought settle
And obscure the pure of heart for the good part
Of me, and me; disregarding I

The bad comes with good
And my great is another's story to persuade aside
As a tale of unwanted enactment
Paranoia, set with friends and their ghosts
For me to panic and ignore the most
Of what made me, into I

The tale of so-called wisdom
That I spin into the fable of "I"
An excuse to remind them of specific life
My disciplined story of a false knife
That never struck my good heart
But left with the purity I sought

My twist of dare is to compare
A time of my own felt wasted when forged
On the paper that clouds title;
"I".
A holy biography I do not end
Only mock to pray readers will come
Come to read words I never wrote
As I lie to the circle about the life "I" really lived