Again,
Life leaves me staring.
At my coffee, as I swirl it with a spoon.
Relating to the vortex created.
Drawing sweet ingredients, down to their doom.

A stir meant to bring things together.
Unifying it all to my taste.
Yet now I sit here and I wonder.
Was the effort all just a waste.

Those lines sound fine together.
But I realize, that they are misleading.
I never even really liked coffee.
It just somehow became necessary.

I guess that's how my story goes.
From one unchosen situation to the next.
Until one rings true of purpose.
I'll stir carefully, to avoid another mess.

The hour is late
Just rest your weary head
Deep red to purple hues
In this the twilight hour
Fear not and close your eyes
Be at ease and drift to dreams
I will tend to you for now
As a low fire of twig and ember
Until the morning dawns
Be at peace

Been the longest time often wrong
Since I spoke conveniently;
Obscure have I walked long
Alone in the meadow's grass .

Barefooted like a prehistoric  
predator tending to fast twitching
Impulses the structures embedded
In my musculature an inherited trait
Like elastic bands pulled to a limit
Stretching my ligaments,
Tensing my pulse beating my heart
Fast then faster keep
Like a time-piece tuned to the distant
Roar,
Of ancestors with fins crawling on the first shore
Almost this epicentric roar in my temple my head feeling it my legs full of thrusts my genesis about
To take hold of my insides, my mind. The calm part, the kid
That was
That remained
Loving
All
The innocent.
Kept away.
Until
Now.
Until
Then.