To the hills i go
I must visit them all
The seven of them
Big and small

Up and down
I travel their trail
Down to the creek
Where the water is

Clear

In my absence.
What do those "socially preferred"
Return to conversation
After silence tells you
That your presence wasn't wanted.
Detoured.
You write and you wait.
Letters written in the cold of nights
Reaching out to those in which you seek
Honest warmth and companionship from.
No answer. No return.
Frights.
Nightmares relived
As one fails to "not trip over himself"
as he examines his outer and inner layers
Like a doctor trying to cure a disease
He tries to determine the actions needed
To make himself wanted and himself wishing to please
Those effects of disease
That are your defects
That chase away those you try and share a life with
You need not be avoided like the "plague"
As hope's walk
Is trying to mend it's worn out legs.

I walk
I walk to get around
I walk and listen to natural sounds
I walk in sunshine
And mostly in twilight
Sometimes the things I see
Seem subliminally superb
And slightly more special
At night
I listen
I listen to the problems
And issues of others
Because I know I've most likely been there
Before
I listen
To ludicrous outcries
And lacivious and lustful Lamentations
Looking listfully luxurious
Our eyes meet
And it passes
I speak
Rarely,
And usually only within my mind
Because I know
Nobody is really interested
In what I have to say
Silently I suffer
Because some have it worse
Most have it better
But that point is moot
Shoot
I've rambled
Rampant revelling
Revealing raucous and ****
Riotous rituals
Relinquishing my radiance
I fade
Into an abyss
Created from my loneliness
I am alone
And some times I feel
It will always be so
I've made mistakes
My mind mauling
My insides
Meticulously melting
My very memory
Merely a moment
In time
I fear
I fear that one day
A chalk line will
Slowly and surely
Produce a vague image if me
An outline
An ode to my sadness
Of course I know it won't
But one can't have this much pain
And not fear these things
It's obscene
The things I say to me
Taught by torment
Tutoring myself in torture
I'm mean
To myself
And no one else
I hear the things I say to me
And shudder to think
The damage my words could cause Another
Music
Sets me free
And alleviates this anger
In allegory allowing the air
To absolve my anguish
Almost
And then.....
I change my train of thought
Too touchy is this subject matter
Or not
But mostly.......

I walk.

He takes Lady for a walk
A ***** down, murky ground
A sly, hairy stench of warmth.

He takes Lady for a walk
Toenails scratch shattered shells
A fishy desire for something wild
Something half alive.

He takes Lady for a walk
She licks the competition’s
asinine assumption
But a moment of odorous ardor.  

He takes Lady for a walk
Tethered from the nether
Restrained from region
Retrained from reason
A charm bracelet away from her freedom.