A callous self deprecating emotion
springs to life inside me.
The recognition that I can be swept
aside, buried beneath the all
encompassing societal rug
berates me.
A callousness sparks inside me.
A hunger for the flammable,
the all too metaphorical
combustible agents flutter
just outside my incendiary
thoughts, my actions.
So for only a fleeting moment
the intensity of our conglomerate
fire may be perceived, and
paralyze the darkness.

This callousness has caused
imperfections, markings, scrapings,
defacing the beautiful vehicle
I fly upon.
Carried by its wings, its divine
focus there isn't a second to
notice.
Resting only to refuel,
the weight, the burden are too
much for one spirit to
hold.

So where's the love?!
It too is found in this irreplaceable
callousness. A fondled idea writhing,
weeping like an infant, whose
mother can be seen, but not
touched.
Restraint illicits too much
confusion.
Bottled hypothesis' shaken
until the contents are so wound
up they beg for release.
To explode, exposing their teeth.
An earthquake rips through
their vehicle, making new
formations where old ones
have long since eroded.

A callousness festers in me,
for inaction is the norm,
and this weathered vehicle
has been thinking, not doing for
too long.
So with each new word,
a step forward, a destination set,
a redefining of the unrefined.