i have traversed many miles
walking with the night,
she with her satin leash
wrapped around my neck,
ushering me under
a divine compass of stars
who navigate me
into a
grey fog of fantasy;
tempting me
away from
another tired night  
of suggestion
and malcontent.

i do well
stepping into my role
of daydreamer
in the night,
eyes glazing over,
body weaving
like some
mechanical soldier,
as I slowly sink
further
and further
into the rabbit hole
of my mind,

where i touch
the membrane,
the pulsing vein,
the sturdy skull
which cups
the hiding  
mass of brain,
and the tangled knot
of treasured ideas
and thought.

i enter casually
under the mark
of exit signs
searching aimlessly
for an idea,
stuck in a lightless cave
of a deeper depth,

the one born and lost
on the winding interstate,
without pen and paper
in hand to collaborate,
eighty miles an hour
of reckless power
births creation,
when
neuron,
synapse
and speed
galvanize into
conceit.

but this one escapes me.
it flickers out of sight
like the rest of them,

as i close into
where it hides,
like some feral animal
who knows
not of a friendly hand,
it scurries back
into it's lonesome wasteland.

but i remain
walking under the
invasive moonlight,
for I yearn to take my idea back home,
to wrestle it into submission,
sew it to hand and feet
and give it deserved recognition,
to dive my sharpened teeth into
the thick of it's juicy meaning
to bleed ink
onto paper,

for there is nothing
back in the stagnant terrain
of my body,
or here
lying on my desk
but the blank pages
of the greatest story
never written.