Words, words, words
Packaged and distributed
To the masses,
Recycled cliché stories
Of lost youth and love,
Recycled morals to feed
Into the classes,

The mind becomes an animal,
A phrase-spitting monster,
Aiming for guts of steel,
Fragile hearts,
And alcoholic tendencies,

I’m painting metaphors
For your solitary demise,
I’m splashing paint
Across your solitary disguise,
Unveiling caged wings,
Only to become
Another joke in the crowd,
A well-paid clown in an office,
A romantic artist with eyes in the sky,

I have become another starving predator,
In an over-occupied jungle
Of laptops and caffeine.

There is the thick and
Outer skin Thought,
It is the obvious:
It is the Common denominator
It is the difference between an apple and an orange
It is the why of bees and their honey

There is the mediocre thought:
It has one foot in the door
And one hand on the fire
But the body is still lost in space
    -All bodies are lost in space
           Until Time brings them down
                     To their boxes
                                      To die

Only the anxious, eager and curious
Arrive at the core of Thought:
Like the roots of a tree,
Seeing the
        Shape
Of things,
Slowly carving into layers,
Until living from the inside
Of a butterfly’s wing