A thing of pure beauty
is just what I do see
when I gaze at what could be
between you and me.

A storm cloud of cigarette smoke hangs over my ocean of ***.
The rumblings of disappointment shake the breath in my lungs. The last beats of hope echoing quietly through my heart.
No purpose, no goal, no reason at all; alone with my thoughts--wherever they go.

But now I write just for me.
Now I write so I can see.
Now I write to let it be.

I write to empty a cluttered mind, and to escape the daily grind.
I write to search and I write to find, but I don't write so that I can rewind.

What's past didn't last, what's coming is coming fast, and what's here now simply has me aghast.

I write to create, but mostly to destroy.
I take perfect paper and litter it with words, I fill it with thoughts I may not enjoy.

I write to stay sane, inane, but not plain. The words, my umbrella, from all of the rain.

I don't write for her, nor them, nor you.
I write for me & my demons, and that'll have to do.

I used to write, just for you.
You used to be my worldly muse.
You took each day, and erased the blue.
You made me know just what to do.

I used to write, to tell you things.
About my soul, and how it sings.
About my heart, afloat with wings.
But now, the phone, it barely rings.

I used to write, to hear your voice.
I used to write, without a choice.
I used to write, and then rejoice.

I used to write.

My muse is slinking down the walls, chasing away the shadows of self doubt.

They're running back from where they came.
They're leaving me alone.

She's dancing in the glowing lights; she makes the room grow bigger.

She makes me feel so good inside, but she only ever lingers.

In those fleeting moments, I'm happy without a care.
Happy without reason.
Happy just because.

I want to prolong it, although I know it has to end.

Eventually the lights all fade.

Eventually reality wins.

I sit and I think,
alone and forgotten.
I stare and I blink
and I simply feel rotten.

The trip has been long,
& there's no port to see.
I've forgotten my song
and my reason to be.

I need to find passion,
something that makes me alive.
I'm almost out of rations
and I've barely survived.

The days were slowly wasted,
I never tasted my dream.
So now, I sit sedated
and torn at the seam.

I'm stuck in the labyrinth I've created for myself, stone and cold to the touch.
Each turn takes me deeper, farther.
Each turn makes me stronger.
Stone and cement, as far as I see, each turn changes from day to day.
The people I see, the things I do, each decision changing the end.
The walls are damp, I've lost count of days, I've been walking forever searching for the finish line.
I may never get there, perpetually lost between the walls.
I grit my teeth and barrel forward,
backwards only holds more questions.
Alone with my thoughts, I'm scared at every corner. Alone in my mind, I'm terrified to solve the puzzle.