When I said, "I write,"
essentially what I meant is:
I wrote.
The proceeding lines,
and the breaks that follow,
have been thought out,
from the apathetic hollow
There is a place inside,
of me,
and you,
mind you,
that you know is darkened,
and sheltered.
There is a "Manson for Ransom"
that screams Helter Skelter.
Oh, persuasive wink!
Keeping one eye open,
holding promises known
to be broken.
Speculation runs fluent about
this perpetual black hole,
knowing the higher we rise,
the harder we fall.