I avoid utilizing any real skill.
The person,
the human,
that I am is wasting away.
We can find ourselves inspired in the midst of tragedy.
We take the pain of others,
their mistakes,  
graft them into our own lives to relate.
Am I still whole?
Am I still mine?
In my heart,
at the core of my animal
*** is vital.
I want to write about it,
how it makes me feel.
but it is the me that sits alone in her floor that needs to empassioned.
I sit with all the tools at my fingertips.
Volumes of empty books to fill.
I'm not who I want to be.
Simpler obsessions fill the void that they used to exploit.
Fits of writing about how I cannot write.
Dig
Disect
Nothing replies.
Stare into the void.
Load my pipe again & again.
I don't feel myself.
The one who could pour her heart & mind into pages.
I am just like everyone else.
Boring & monotonous.
I am in a cycle of comfortable survival.
I do not create.
I do not expand.
I do not contribute.
I only consume.
I dug myself out of a hole only to become planted there.
Foreign to this reality.
I don't want to waste away.
Constantly entertained.
I want to find madness.
Lost in the worlds inside my head made real on paper.
The pleasure in staring at the emotions painted on a canvas.
Breed the life force of every morsel I intake.
Burn for the next physical limit to be broken.
Speak languages that make me weak.
God beneath the tree tops.
In love with all the life that came before me,
full of the things I love so dearly.
Where is Satan
while fighting this war of doubt & inaction.
This stagnant misery should be ammunition enough
to break down Heaven's gate
& turn the tide against the luxury I've entombed myself in.
But I must claw,
enraged,
& labor to bring life into this wraith.
Great demons be my muse.
Ancient disease doth stir & demand nourishment
from control & fear.
Abandon my world of weakness to become
of new things.

God blessed me with a heart of gold,
and I pawned it for molly shard.
My darkest secrets, I have sold.
But now my life is not so hard.
No further remorse following my actions,
nothing in my chest to break at all.
When it comes to the Earth I have no attractions,
but to get so high that I never will fall.

they say this sage will help her come out.
the red smoke will bring her presence.
she dances in the woods ,
and you can only catch a glimpse of her.
her blonde hair flows like a river over rocks,
skin pale as the moon,
she moves so swiftly that she could be right behind you and youd have no idea.
you hear her voice singing her song.
"at break of dawn when theres barely any sun,
come to me my sad one. there was a little toolshed where he made us suffer. he sees everything, and were his forever. my body is the art of Lucifer.  so come to me my sad one. "
she repeats the song about 3 times but on the third you hear someone with her.
when the sage clears up its like nothing happened.