The fire that burns
or that feeling in you're stomach that turns turns turns
the fluttering butterflies
that you rely on
and the sailors in their boats that stir up monsoons

i'm a man in a row boat.
taking on invisible tidle waves
and bearing my soul to posiedon

i'm sitting in still water as far as you're concerned
noticing the low flame in your hearth
and wishing i could go to land and add wood to your stove

But i cant

I cant survive off feeding you're fire
i need to take on the ocean in my boat

There's a cigarette burnt black coffee filtered voice that i use but don't own
and as many cigarettes and cups as i push past empty lines
it's that other drink and smoke that own my windpipes.
That's a lie;
I've never filtered any tangible thoughts out of those two sources
and serenity aint my friend in any kind of aggravated blissful stupor.

So it must be the early morning toilet scene that caresses my inspiration as i fill it's desperation

I will sit down
Take a bite
side line
right site
You're a phony
and a liar
prone bones never had time to shift through this mess
and god forgive such boasting
i'm sure that fire couldn't contain a more self righteous sire

Do you need

No matter how much you feel
and plead
and every lead that you follow for your personal glutton
passion?
or serious distraction.

DO you NEED?

or want

or do you want,
to need

is there some seed that you carry around
that you water and sow in the ground
that you birthed and nurtured

is want
a spit in the face

i understand :D

There is a certain associated atmosphere      
that past life loops
have for shot gun shell revelry.

It's the stand tall follicle remembering,
mid time, interstellar travelling
wide eye, dropped cup, dismembering

it's a France bound, Jail break excursion
dare, short, and unburden,
temporarily ...

it's a standard grey hound Journey
follow through, loud mouth, honesty
a fellowship, for lorn country boarding.

aggression

coffee veined, want and lust
It's a blind she devil temptress
and a coma of unforgiving

its a moment in the air when your lurch of a heart,
upside down stomach weightlessness
curious and confident,
ground teeth cackle

and it's the sense of it all and the yearn of a thousand water molecules to let go.

Lastly,
When there wasn't any rain,
When nature ignored pain,
And the solitary feeling,
That even the earth has abandoned,
A revelation of the winds gentle breeze,
That helped fire,
Evades.

Evades,
Knowing that the soul,
Were so unconnected,
So were the actions of another,
As if by breaking spirits,
To evoke the subconscious,
A righteous entity would bring forth a tidal wave,
And wash out the suffering.

When firstly i should have realized,
That Jesus,
An ambiguous image,
Dressed in the garments of my mind
Had nothing to do with birds happy chirping
And dressed the world in garments of my imagination

How great the illusion is,
When i give my beliefs power,
And how pitiful are those lost to reality.

white purifying light
god, so bright, so white
fight, night, fight

however, night,
your brother day,
will but understand your evil.
whether not, or right
you will hear them say,
night, your actions are ill.

when your morning glory sun,
opens ignorant eyes,
who from birth,
have been taught to close to thee.

and those sad men,
who past ten,
find themselves dead,
by another slave,
pitythe graveyard shift

protest

ill sayeth thee
ill as the fire's candletip
burning holes in my time,
the theif, who regards me less.

ill as the wicked beast
who attacks in the night
and survives in your sleep

ill are those
who from birth
are taught to close their eyes to me.