Supported by a hook and a painful glare,
My tendons ache, digits degraded, depleted,
Yet tension pulls at me from thin air,
As my muscles and chassis sputter, defeated.
Confined to the line, confined to the chair,
Defying that which envelopes my bones,
Disconnect the mind, the eye that stares,
My domain is one of peaceful undertones.
Despite that awful horn, which blares,
I form the courage from nothing, yet defy
My own teeth, clacking in calcified pairs.
Not of fear, but of spirit I cannot rely
Upon in times of need, despite my disrepair.
The head grows weary, no longer mine to use.
Such feelings do elicit quite a scare,
Reduced, my self-agency, to not but a muse.
And, time passing, I find my mind quite bare.
A comforting truth, to say the very least.
Much preferable to the dangerous dares,
That tempt the dreaded claws of the beast.

I heard of the Great War in the east
the forests have been whispering
and I heard of the vicious, horrid beast
whose eyes left it's victims trembling
the war started with a single thrill,
as the beast appeared, so wickedly strong
as strong as a mountain, if you will
and that's when the birds started their song
the song spoke of years of blood and fear
the beast destroyed what got in it's path
but once when the sky was bright and clear
a Phoenix appeared to save them from it's wrath
it fought the beast with vigorous might
and when the beast fell and the land was safe
the Phoenix rose radiating light
which broke the darkness and life it gave

"Clouds of Thought"

The muse arrives with familiar ease
And illumines the realm of inner view.
Quietly births a soulful breeze
Forms clouds of thought in purest hue.
How lifted do I tread and plod,
Humble receptacle, servant of God.

Each mortal frame a joy contains
That soothes the soul and heart to find.
A healing balm for worldly pains
A heavenly cleft from beastly mind.
Oh, how honored do we tread and plod,
Humble receptacles, servants of God.

I think that someone is trying to **** me,
Infecting my body - destroying my mind,
Oceans alive trying to send me into the sea,
See my soul soaked in salt and brine.

Sails scream and tear under heavy weights,
Ceaseless spray drowns all mirth and hope,
Seabeast sending us into panicked and dire straits,
Swiftly forcing us to the end of our ropes.

Ship destroyed in a frenzy of hate,
Hearts alive split into the deep blue sea,
Holes in the ship welcoming the floodgates,
We all sank together - with not a one escapee.

The beast that needs to be tamed lives
within yourself. All the other despair
is smog being blown away by the invisible
mouths of those who, with cries and silence,
are trying to breath and move around
under water, trying to think which was
that one turn that brought them here
and started the person that became.

All these right-and-wrongs that are said
and also those who remain silent,
all these intentions toward a saved life,
and all these doors that are being opened
and closed, are so much like the efforts
of a writer creating a character for
a book that will be finished on a deathbed
and surrounded by teary-eyed beasts in human skin.