Are poet's words
found in their blood?
Do they flood the mind
of their host?
Parasitic creatures of
expression

Lay dormant, to torment,
then released in inspiration
by a lit match
that found gasoline
soaked paper?

Dissect each line
word for word
Finding yourself
in the verse,
of each
blurred line

Whatever happened to the boy
who dreamed?
The master architect of worlds
rarely visited.
Fragmented artifacts are discovered,
sieved out of the sand.
The body as whole remains incomplete

A lonely man singing along
with his guitar of woe
Sing to me your story,
tell me what brought you here
Failure to dream or overwhelmed
by choice?

I've heard of the living
I know of the afterlife
The walls between you and me
are physical
Follow the paths forged by the few
Liberate your passions
I see you in me.