Inside my head there is a place
awaking the purpose to write
like incisions on a platter of a golden sizzor
Cutting in time wasted where it could be used in skills practice
to free a prisoner of rest
Like legos we stack purpose
And speeches never frail
There are times of a nothingness
for ink flows and poetic thoughts
yet naturaly words yell at my window for spills

a welcoming and re-entering

Paving for my souls exertion
editing exact details
carrying in a song in my psalms

I dont live in the gift
the gift lives in me
touring like a concert to sooth
or even to feel
Like a record playing on repeat
This is my mental obsession

© S.T. Rebel of Eden