As a writer we all understand that need,
the urge inside you yearning to escape through
the written word
the word you inscribe with your thoughts
onto the paper of a phoenix, born anew
as each failed sentence crumbles it
to ash

There's a magnificence in your face
and a gentle underside that leans me inward
your cute curved lips tremble as I slide
my hand up your skirt

There's a flush of the cosmos on your face,
and the cosmos are vast
like our minds, the cosmos bends
to the will of energy

For everything that is final
there was a begininng so we must ask
where have we been?
the ramblings of madmen conduct
our code and ethics
but those still mad run among the streets
unnoticed, like a raven.

And as I think of the woes of the mother,
her blue marble is but a tear in the eye,
of a life infinitely larger
the will is not there
you must understand its not in my hands

I am trapped inside
and I will shut the windows tonight
But still as the rain hits the roof
I feel myself sliding,
slipping,
falling.