wet fingers
touch my face
all nervous and
unbalanced.

perception
rips out of my throat
so fast that it's sore when morning breaks.
I feel the rising and almost shake
it's time for another eighteen hour day.

red teeth creep into my thoughts
and the bottle in the cabinet begins to knock:
here I am, baby, drink me if you can.
if you've got the time, try not to lose your motivation.
plans can't cure this hesitation.
perspiration from more than just nervousness, what's this?
it's the eyeballs teaching you a lesson,
it's the heartbeat just wanting to leave a mess in
what you thought you could contain
in the muddied cave you call a brain,
it's the endless pits of despair you so often hear tales of.
thinking, "Oh, you silly people, pet the belly of the beast
and you'll be free."

kissing the *** of an evil spirit will leave you with less progress
than if you washed the feet of an angel with your tears.  

insides burning with lust for flesh, for a cool comfort
you can bury yourself in. if your expectations grace you with
their absence and your mind feels free enough to explore,
then share your thoughts with me this evening,
I'll give you my heart as an open door.