Poetry, my companion poetry,
Always with me in the grind,
The one I speak to in the solitary
Confinement.
         You were born out of life
That was silent until I met you,
From the fountain of words
That I am drunken from.

       Your grace in the theoretical
Chaos is what keeps me focused
As I trace the oblivion into form,
Together birthing inklings of
The journey.
     And you are the voice of wombs,
The beginning of my dreams,
The ending of my awakening,
      At times we collided and formed
The polyhedron shaped mirrors
Always conflicting the original reflection.

     But you are my friend,
All that is real in this surrealist
Pavement, I am not myself without
Your balance,
     Both crazy and sane,
Still I have not known the difference,
And I have no cover without you,
I become a picture of a child,
     Lost in the city,
Lost among the sea of eyes,
All staring at the orphan.