Breaking on a weathered shore
The waves of time in tempest rhyme
Relentless through the open space
They’ve left my mind in a scattered state

The winds of change have blown this way
Across the void into my dreams
Upon the mountains of my mind
And through the valleys they do whine

The trembling earth beneath my feet
Shakes me up and all around
Gravity’s tremors wrestle with me
To pull me down into the ground

A raging flame roars in my ears
I turn around to face the sound
That fire that burns inside of me
I hold it close but carefully

The churning vortex draws me in
Its clutch is great and the goal is clear
I spin and spin till the daylight’s gone
And find no end to its endless song

There’s nothing mentioned that can’t be said
But the wheels of fortune can’t be read
The mind of matter can’t be defied
And the rains from heaven will not be denied

When rain comes down to quench my flame
When the earth turns round and pulls me down
There’s very little that I can say
But I choose to take it my very own way

the cracking concrete stairway practically reeks darkness
this is the entrance to the labyrinth.
step by step constantly downward until the sliver of sun that you always thought would be visible has finally disappeared
and left nothing but the blinking of the dim artificial light broken by time.
the warmth you surely felt outside has been leeched away
leaving a constant chill to raise the hairs on your arms
every time the ghost of a subway train emerges from the depths of the tunnels to all sides.
crude steel and fissured tiles paint the portrait of the lives that have passed through here
the tracks making no distinction between foreigner and local as they dole out their fates.
and every rushing train blurring the shadowy lights of the tunnel
reaffirms your suspicion that this is a vessel through a vortex in disguise as a breaking down train.
and as the doors slide open once the wheels lock and screech in agony until the momentum is stopped,
take caution
for the city you exited from into the subway
may not be the same you’ll enter here.

Have you ever looked into a mirror?
Of course you have, we all have at some point; but have you ever really looked, deep inside?
Like a vortex it will **** you in and you will become committed to picking out each flaw of yourself, as if you were to blow away the delicate petals of a dandelion; one at a time.
Honestly and truthfully, do not lie, we would all like to be cynical and selfish, to love ourselves would be one of the greatest pleasures,
but mirrors;
they are hazardous, distorting our true image until we no longer have anything left to pick out.
Yet we still insist on persecuting ourselves?
Maybe it is we who distort our own image.

The vortex

My mind is a vortex,
a whirlwind of thoughts, beliefs and desires.
Creativity oozing up to the surface of every pore, determination dancing circles within.

What with all these factors in one soul, success seems imminent?

The vortex has other ideas for this one.

Desire now destined to get lost in the mass clutter of thoughts,
counter-arguements penetrating all beliefs that once seemed so absolute,
fire rupturing and destorying all creativity that  lives.

My mind is a vortex, and i am my mind.

I am sure of it now.
That I'm the least sure of everything,
That I've ever been.

And if I close my eyes tight.
It won't change the fact that
I'll sit here until I turn green.

I've been in a depressing daze.
Rebooting a flattened soul.
Looking for comfort in all types of ways.

My mind was a maze as it were.
Now it's been blended.
And there seems to be no cure.

I am now sure!
Of a vortex inside
And nothing more.