“In the age of the cage its hard to not dwell on your self imposed cell,
Yet the best dream of heaven is conjured through living in hell”,
Before this find from the mine within my mind my soul was frozen-cold and unkind,
It exhumed a plague from within that had infected my will to live,
If it spread to my heart or spread to my muse
the gloom soon too would have reaped the collateral,
Hark there is a way for you through the blue hue via the lateral,
Its the search for the grail,
through the frail hail on the wings of a nightingale,
To be writing lightning,
To elaborate what the bolt of a thunder-strike tastes like,
To scorch your desires with the fire of a passion that wills all,
When the electricity of your spirit is the fragrance of evolutionary madness,
When you abscond through the great beyond to attain the fated state of bohemian vagabond,
When you show the brute truth of delirious flow to finally know where naked thoughts grow,
Its to find yourself riding down the rabid river with one eye to the broiling sky,
In dear desire of living a step past the ledge of where angels dare to die,
So take what you need and leave what you grieve without protest,
Lest the grotesque reap the best of the souls sweet zest.
Such is my idea of living whilst you breathe