People say I'm intense and aggressive
Not camping, just scampering, rampant
I'm too quick to take care and I'm helping
The message is hell bent on answering
All of your questions so let up the pressure!

Chat, chat, chat and you think you're all that
Talk some smack just so you can get back
Launch an attack on the boy in black
That boy so sad he makes me mad
That boy is trash have you seen his raps?
He's so **** suss I really wanna clap
Left right, goodnight, put him in the spotlight
And scrutinise like I have that right

Aye, I bet you think you know me
When all you've seen is nothing really
Yeah, bet it turns you green
To know that I'm better than what you carelessly,
Push away, in rage, that's cute, so sweet
When you stay, enraged, by your own heartbeat.
When you fake til you make and that's why you grin
Guess you don't know that to lie is to sin

Yeah I was the kid who got left out and yes I was the kid who'd always doubt
I was the kid who had no friends and I was the kid who'd get left til the end
Chosen for games as the last called name,
If I couldnt be avoided like I carried black plague,
But look at me now, I stand so proud, and if you try to take this from me I will knock you down!

I bring the rain and you brought pain
So I gave it back like, keep the change
Hate it when you take it
Hypocritically making
Bad choices lately, despise me for saying

So you sneak like a snake and talk behind my back
But it never really cut me so I wouldn't say backstabbed
You never really mattered so I'll be fine
You can drown in your ball pit of lies

While I raise the storm and I right the wrong
While I pave the way and still remain calm
The black dog follows and hounds at my feet
But I am electric you can't bite me!

Stormbringer,
Stormbringer

You could call me Zeus I'm lightning when I move

Stormbringer,
Stormbringer

I'm a Godlike youth that you dream to pursue

Bolt from the clouds comes crashing down
Charging the air like a love affair
Handle with care? I was kicked down the stairs
They called me Zaps so be aware!

That's spaz backwards! Ha! So funny
Now that I'm electric I guess it means something
Now that I write hectic I guess it means cunning
Yeah I'm spastic with my bars but I'm shocking and I'm stunning

You wish you had the talent to grasp words with magnets
And have the power to change the charge like its only magic
And link negative to its own, and vice versa
Take a slasher of a song and make verbal ******

Call out the curses, fill them with hurt and close all your curtains, the sunlight is burning

Go outside and raise your head to the sky
Dark clouds race to claim it all as mine!

Stormbringer,
Stormbringer

Was the reject now I'm relevant

Stormbringer,
Yeah, Stormbringer

It's no dead ringer I was always a winner

Call me a sinner, I eat y'all for dinner
Those who call me a quitter, make claims that I never
Will get any better, when I'm rising forever
When I'm using my head and I'm light as a feather

I told you my name, don't use it in vain,
I gave you my hand, you can't do the same
So trust is reversed and storms start to churn
When I raise my voice it's a third degree burn!

I gave it non-stop what more could you want
When voices persist I'm getting *******
Continual fights and TV highlights
It took me a while but now I realise

Now I realise,
Now I realise!

I'm the Stormbringer....

Stormbringer, your head's like a spinner
Gasping for air, I crushed your throat from a distance, so killer, killer, killer...

Killer, killer, killer...

I shout out and you twirl around
Rotating one-eighty like you're an owl
You look at me foul like a fowl out of bounds so
This is just something for which you're renowned
Back in the day when you used to clown
Now that I'm clowning you're the one running around
What have I done? This isn't fun!
Come at me strong, or come at me none

Back in your cage, the one that you made when you went insane and told me to stay,
Never have I ever followed in your ways
Never would I ever listen to you persuade

You'd need some skill, and not fumble your speech
I've seen examples, week after week
Calling me out saying that I'm a creep
When I used to feel to get by I must sneak

Now the tides turned, I'm friends with Poseidon
I'm a demigod and you're just a pirate
Plundering the ***** of your best mates
What? You don't like the **** I say?

Aww...

But I am no fraud
I am my own mob
I'm raising my head,
To inflict what I got!

Sweet lips encrusted in sugar from the hot doughnuts at the steam fair.
Baked in the dusty sunshine of an August afternoon in North London.
I would roam these streets from childhood into adulthood,
Drinking £2,50 wine at bus stops only to get thrown out of the pub for illusionary bathroom shots
Our real crime? Being too young.

Since then, i have drunk Spanish manzanilla in an old tobacco store room
Transformed into a house where wafts of old book smell mingling with the scent of baked terra cotta and lemon trees sweeps down dark corridors revealing hidden gems of traveled souls.
Where there are streets that belong to Phoenician women , Arab traders , Christian crusaders and now the Spanish folk
All these names we go by , yet still human we stand

Up on roof tops, smoking sneaky roll ups to the elegance of storks
Building nests on church domes and castle walls
Monuments to remind the future
Graffiti on the natural landscape , the ruins read " we waz ere"

From shores of the Atlantic to shores of the Atlantic
Brooklyn rises
The night bus to eat pizza alarmed me
How were the buses so different ?
London's told you where you were
New York's Made you suss it out for yourself
In the company of a Father i hardly knew and the Mother of my new sibling
Child ,
Who will you become ?
Shaped by the contrast of your parents skin , your curled hair yet to emerge from fresh formed follicles
Rest easy ,
This world Ain't so harsh

I found God at the bottom of a bowl of noodles
Simply sitting there , lazing about as i licked my lips of the residual chillies and sugar
I deal in the order of paradoxes
Born by the sea only to grow up in the 'so called' luxury of the cities jungle
Although, resting now in the moon soaked mountain air ,
no city can compare, to the fragrance of flowers that bloom and scent only for those who brave the night

I used to be afraid of the dark ,
Now i make love with it.

My next door neighbour
Is again kicking up a fuss,
So I creep up to the window
To see if I can suss,
I can't feel but upset
Is there something I dont get?

All the accolades up on the wall;
Fathers puffed out chest,
Misses in a fur shawl.
Memories framed everwhere
So many styles of hair!
Tickets to only the best shows
At front row yeah you dun kno!

I look away and with jealous dismay,
The latest car of this day you can finance with this pay unused on the drive way!

Suitcases packed, postcards sprawled on the wall,
Sun burnt in the chritmas islands
Been drenched from Niagara falls.

I look back in my window
Its all grey and dull.
There aint no one writing good times on my wall.
No happy birthdays, no pictures to share,
How can I prove that I existed?
Its like I wasn't even there.

Its bare because privacy is something that I care for,
Places I've been, therefore, I haven't captured those moments in time
Through components that engineer a digital eye.

But still, I can't help but wander into that snippet of their lives,
And wonder why it can't be mine.

But if only I could actually go through that door.
Living room on my right,
door locked tight,
The rest of the house is as grey and bleak as mine!?

Skeleton hands closing closet doors,
Not so distant relatives travelling alone in the halls.
The friendly ghosts of schools past,
Will tell you what they thought of them last; revealing why they no longer a part.

Neglected pets, ex's to forget, nasty little texts that capsized lives into wrecks.
Used baggies and tickets, earthy daggers and spigots that buried all the nasty and ***** secrets.
All the zits, the emptied makeup bags.
That was used as a mask to hide the upset and sad.

I peep in the living room (just one more time).
Yes, it's brighter than mine,
But I realise that I dont parade my life.

Peoples square or round window are always exciting but never do they let you look further in because it will unfurl their world and you might just start to realise they are just like everybody else!

Gosh, they are moddest when they are praised!
But no attention, well their wall will get another decorate until someone succumbs, ups a thumbs and shouts out 'you're great!'

My living room is better than yours!
There's these unwritten rules
Of the modern day society norms.

Get yourself into debt, when do you next jet set?
Aw your kid has taken their first step! What a pet!
Big bright signs signal the window display
"Look at my life, it's greater than great!"

Everyone, All role up this way
"I need you to see how my life is great.
Please don't go away"
Now their brain is racing, the fame needs chasing,
All for barren validation

Stinking Thieves and Degenerates thus proudly declared
We will drive you paranoid, give you ******* brain cancer
We will put hot things in your head, head lice they blared
We will plant dissenting seeds in your mind by our passers
Chatter and natter with toxic germination brain  furrowed

With poisons, fears and doubts we'll polluted your mind
We are the majority and we'll recruit followers in numbers
Build a pyramid of lies and hassles to hound and down grind
One tell ten and onwards, chinese whispers makes you to wonder
Peck like vultures at your life  with harassments that's unkind

In our putrid pond, caves and gutters a Grass is what you are
Goody shiny two shoes who stays aloof thinks he's better than us
Whistle clean, no crime or stains, how pompous, how you dare
Evil and destruction is our wont, purity is anathema go you suss
We'll sling mud, blacken you, weaken you and lay you bare

Go call your Jesus to save you, see if he dares tussle with the pack
The ******* cemetery is full of Saints who we've offered free rides
Showed them the Hell we make for good people before we wack
We'll get in your head and mind and trounce your soul with hide
We are knaves, criminals and reprobates and we have the knack

Yes, we burgled and stole from you, that's our trade, what we do
We are criminals not ******* Mother Teresa saving the poor
You work hard to acquire, we work hard to acquire, isn't it so
Then you chose to grass us up, ruin our trade and shut our doors
see what happens to upright and legit, jobless, lonely and broken too.


Hahaha....hahaha.....hahaha.....next!
Brother watch out, it could be you..............

Taking Care of Body Parts

Take care of the body parts.
All the same, remember that
Most of what is going on,
Is going on inside you.

Organs, blood, I don’t-know-what,
Brain, realms therein.
All in-, invisible.
Cause encased:
To be addressed.

Take care of the body parts.
They show.
It’s nice and comfortable to know
                                   they work,
And more than that:
A pointer signal to research
The itch that doesn’t cease,
The lump or bump, the crease
Here, there or anywhere.  

Of course take care,
But find what’s there -
And not.
Fix the flub on neck and throat.
Booboo unattractive,
But beware, take care and ‘suss it out’.

Remember,
No appendage or a member
Is the issue.
It’s what’s going on inside
That describes the living you.

Taking Care Of Body Parts 3.22.2017
Circling Round Yoga; Nature of & in Reality;
Arlene Corwin


Of course!

When it seems all the world wants to sell me on painkillers, you face the troubled of all sorts with a scalpel and a wink. Even when those stitches holding your own spitshined heart together are looking a little iffy.

Since childhood, we’ve floundered like fish out of water both longing for the sea, but with age, I think that you and I have come to view the ocean in very different ways.

What I see as an adventure, you’ve always seen as home.

The sea could never quite mystify someone who’s strived to be more siren than human. No, unlike the flower from which you were named, your real garden patch is present with the planets.

You make me want to be as stalwart as Stonewall, and save my wishing well quarters for the pigs who tried to suss out every non-straight playing broad through her suit clothes, so that on the days where the face of my best friend's assaulter bears down like the man in the moon, she’ll preserve her beautiful, blessed hands by halting her fist before it can hit any wall.

Apparently, you’ve been learning Russian on a whim since age eleven. You love tattoos and art in it's sometimes most tantric forms. The firm and sometimes too-firm handshake between aesthetic and soul, and what, дорогая сестра, is more human than that?

And you called yourself cynical.
Yet when the life of a honeybee means so much in your hands, I can’t understand how you tried to scorn the weight of the world. You found beauty in banana slugs, and I have to believe you do not know your own self.

Seeing you make sense of other people, I now believe that mermaids are incredibly self-conscious, so when we asail our Somali plundered doubloons, blood diamonds, pearls of tortured oysters, and other ill-gotten goods back into the sea, may we feel we’ve done our duty when they see their own reflections for the first time and become narcissists.

Because of you, I tried for the first time to love myself, because like it or not, this is what I’ve got. What we’ve got. The most detached tag team duo the world’s never seen.

But on the day that I finally throw the dragon’s den fortune of our mother back into the mariana trench from which she and the sessions family came, I’ll think back to the time where she said that, as siblings, we’d grow up to be best friends. But let’s face it, we have both lost a lot of best friends, though you are the only one of all those come and gone who’s yet to steer me wrong. Okay, that’s a fat lie, because for a second of my life you convinced me to believe that you are cynical.

Comparing your stride to the rest of the world’s, I will never again judge somebody for the way they walk. Even if they have to drag themselves, kicking and screaming from point A to point B, the last thing a person needs is another stranger stepping on their lifeline.

I hear of everything you're doing, day in and day out, think of all the times this world’s nearly lost you, and I remember the statue in our neighbor’s front lawn. A little girl-an angel- with butterflies landing atop her precious hands. Then I realized that to be an angel statue means you can never reach out for more, and suddenly, I know why you always preferred cyborgs.

The public debate
a political *******
reminds me
why I hate.

But that's Eton and Harrow not
Toxteth or Jarrow.
I leave the politics to them,
the Southern gentlemen

Up in the shires where men walk on tight wires
and dance to a different song is
where I belong,
from the Midlands to the Tyne where
they drink beer and leave the wine is
another place in time
a place for me.

And while Atlanta burns the gentlemen shall all take turns to **** upon the fire.
but when the hands of 'Ben' unlock and count the votes there'll be a shock when some old lady gets the keys to number ten,
we all remember them old days, the three day week, the hide and seek, the suss', the stop and search, the powers that interrupt, corrupt and end in a debate,
a state of the nation more infiltration, less liberation, more *******,
the public schools have fooled us all,
we're *******, but we don't know it yet
we'll get the letter in the post,
the most that we can hope for.

I’m in a contest I can’t win
Or even come in second.
My bird has flown from the streetlight arm
And taken promise with it.

Another lands and then departs
To mock my hopeful prayers
The sky teems with symbolic fowl
But I can’t suss their meaning.

A big one flew straight over me
But I can’t read its message.
Was it promising good health
Or telling me it’s sorry

That I’ll only get just what I have
To get me through tomorrow
And if I am not strong enough
The game will then be over.

Why are birds the messengers
In answer to my pleas
They send me signals I can’t read
And I walk on in darkness.
ljm

what i would tell you about the posies
that gather around
when they overhear my voice
calling out your name,
none would say the same.

for them,
caroused near the streams
that few perennials are but discerned;
springtime only passes by,
and then they are gone.

but how are they able to suss as such?
when these rosebuds
unlatch themselves
only when you are here?

Do you really know who you're talking to?
When you chat on the internet
When you play some online games
It's like playing 'russian roulette’

You think you're talking to a youngster
But it could be a grown-up
Hoping for a pic of you
Taken in close-up

They'll chat to you and suss you out
They'll flatter and cajole
Even though your mum and dad
Have installed parental control

They may try to groom you
And arrange for you to meet
We need to teach our children
To be far more discreet

To never disclose where they're living
Or where they go to school
If they have serious misgivings
To tell a parent is not uncool

The internet can be great
Helpful information it can provide
Don't leave it too late
In an adult you must confide

Be vigilant, keep yourself safe
Don't keep suspicions inside
Report suspect net users
Don't give them time to hide

you and i
we hate cliches
just another thing we have in common
another amongst the many, niche
shared interests that broaden
the connection
between us two

i fancy myself a writer
you used to teach english
so both of us cringe when hearing advice
like "love is blind" given to someone in relationship anguish
and that's why it pains me to be the inciter
asking for communication so precise
having to risk looking foolish
or even losing you completely
as i look in your eyes and say to you
"so... what are we?"

but as much as it pains me
uttering a phrase so trite
what would pain me moreso
would undoubtedly be suffering through another night
of trying to suss out what's going on in your head
or falling asleep alone, again, and thinking that i would be better off dead
set against the notion of losing sleep
over a heart that simply is not mine to keep
so i take a breath and i steel my nerves
to summon the courage to ask for the love i deserve

Pull* "The dog says: 'Bark'"
Pull "The cat says: 'Meow'"
Pull "The human says: 'The human says: 'The human says: 'The human says: 'The human says: 'The human says:......

The human says: 'I can understand that.'
                               Sternly command that.
                               shear and plow and smelt and can that
                            
                               I can make a plan
                               to catch and **** and roast and feast
                               on that hard quill and bristle beast

                               And I can stain his image on the living rock
                               no, not to mock
                               But to remember what feats we drew
                              up from ourselves
                               As the javelins flew
              
                              My hands are clever
              They chip the stone, and scrape the wood,
                      and wind the sinew

             My tongue is cleverer still
             My words are the creeping shadow of my  thoughts
             And just as a shadow is drawn along behind,
                     and stretches in the late dying sun
             And snaps to attention in the noonday swelter, to heel,                                                  obedient
­             My words precede me, and linger behind, and snap to my side to attack
             And defend
             And manipulate

             For well you know, dear reader
             That words move men to move mountains
             They can drive him to brave the tusks and teeth
              And reward him with praise, as the fire flickers against portraiture
             Of a hundred beasts
             Deadly, proud, roaring
             And in the end, delicious.

            How splendid am I
            To suss out basic truths
            From straight-line scratches
            In the dirt
            I can learn the rules
            of all that ever was
                            And to learn, is to understand,
            is to become unfettered
            
            I can cleave, dissect, *****, inject
            And figure it all out
            And learn from a loosing bout
            
             Every monster brought low
              will be investigated
              To see how we can end him easier

Until the last monster
Is man himself

Wake up and smell the coffee, focus as the pan flips,
Time for the rat race and its monotonal semantics,
Suss out agendas - get ahead of the mind tricks,
Brush over simple truths with pointless lies and politics.

Another year gone - stale memories as the frost licks,
Dignity diminished, allegiance pledged to bosses,
Anticipating failure as you organise your post-its,
Institutionalising life, leaving no room for chances.

Clutching at a purpose yet defeated as the clock ticks,
Finding closeness in distance and solace as the storm hits.

In the before, before we ever were
We were the primordial
Till our ascendant transitions
Overtook our **** poor positions
On the rearranging food chain

When we changed to five fingered beings
With high octane ape brains
Transcending our vocal limitations
With new sonic imitations

A long lineage lining up
For one improvement then the next
Rising with each step on the DNA stairway
Loosing and gaining, gaining and loosing
Till, organs become vestigial
And even we cannot suss out
Their original purpose

We barely know the steps
To this historic dance
Just taking each adaption
As a matter of chance

Till tired tangents separate
Grow and aggregate

A billion years finds us here
Stewing in fear of
Our own irrelevance
Not knowing that by growing
Such creative brilliance
We have discovered
Our own non-magical miracle

Twigs sprouting leaves
Protein powered trees
Our heritage ascending to the state of
Such a prodigious poetic primate

(So few realize the power of words
or is it my ability with words that confounds?
I am a talented man
even so a Pretender
I'll bring you over to my side
until you suss it out for yourself
that my side
is the last place you want to be)

Seven short stanzas for you to get lost in
you could breeze through in two minutes
you could get lost in my thoughts, spend half the day
lofty as they are, I laid them out just for you
swinging the bulky mallet of my cynical opinions
I'm sure to thump your cranium at least once or twice
before you find that word that stands a fortress
between what you've read and who you've been
when you'll take your own ****** mallet
and tear it down

What will you find when the veil has been torn?
more sneaky words
misguided snarky sentiments
you're fascinated by my judgment of divinity
though those words are fragile, practically meaningless
you see something much more sinister
the Pretender cannot deal in sincerity
nets for brutal fishermen casting lines to men

The Pretender can't play by the rules
he doesn't have to
he notices the list of "weak" words is almost as long as the list of "strong" words
somehow he isn't bothered
knowing full well that his purpose has been accomplished

The abstraction is bad/cliche
the Pretender should be showing
as opposed to telling
I'm telling you
it's a lost cause

You saw 37 lines with only 5 stanzas
I'm *******

Scared?

I am broken bruised used up body
You are an empty ruse
Used to suss me out
Fork in road tongued snake
Eating up all the leftover soul goodness

You can squeeze the life out of me
Smiling up at you grateful
My fallen angel Prometheus

Rope to ***** the weather, sweet sixteen dreams
The mirror tells we can have some fun in teams
I can't find my reflection anymore, searching in eloped reconnaissance streams
Lassoes in the sky, stealing cars under the starlight standing in strong dreams
Another day in paradise, looking better in paraplegic purging preteens
The electric fuzz on your face touches my standing goosebumps gleam at the ****** seams
Bumblepuppy acolyte turning at the prongs of the tattered road, calling up your Hessian friend and making politics right at the sanguineous pea-brain lean veal after the mob gets out on Russian ruby streets running with honesty
On the other side of the world, where the sun sets and polite moonrock never survive on The Berlin Wall tonight abseiling away sealed away, waiting for the ballot or the ballet
Waiting for the limelight to subside, guts tellin' me to keep my self in lowly mad hatters tied to napes, hundreds hanging by weather reports claps in laughter, descending tents by the brook beaming at us in starry dynamo of the thousands
Losing himself in a lucid dream of what was once the world's reality now sleeping, dead presidents in stygian darkness
Hanging on to the word of the weatherman, crime is rising in Russian motherless children hung for misdemeanor looking for a metaphor, the nation understands and wants to know us
Ukraine leave us from the 1990s, too late the third stone from the sun has taken three turns, we are at the trapdoor
Resurrecting the insurrection, pejorative for misnomers and draconian dead beats sibilant suss
Too bad I see the whole earth, on my body stains on laconic red flags, still fly indeed
Flying in the wind, like idiots in the weatherman's underground cuss dirt into the report sowing dead seeds
Unable to see the sun behind cold clouds in stormy weather, battered suitcases breeze by murmurs talking by-lines and stolen **** in ****** underwear ****** unable to breed
Then, the bombs falling and shifting with changeling wind charred sun under the unbeing reading in the Aurelius light
Thousands in the starry dynamo might outshine us all and the nation can't hold us back and keep us far from the fault in stars
The silver lining in the cloud, puerile virile as lady lying Glasnost to the prognostic benzedrine patient
I've never seen a can in hang in stormy weather
Charting out the Chinaman on the hydrogen shore, communism is on the brink of helium war with itself, viscerally hanging from Tomorrow's daughter
Whipping up the foamy sea like cold ice nostrums thawed in search of the antidote to warm red planets named after Roman Gods
Looks like the sea lord created a thalassocracy for the sea cursed by memos and pastiche, droll parody in the mewling hall of the rebuke of free-prose poetry hanging on the tinkering lampshade
Touch me now, never or now bullish books read the list of people who were once on this winding road just like us shining crummy ******* now in a handful of stardust
Being is tougher than living, and the berserk wind keeps changing
Under forked lightning, it gets worse when the spoon picks me up
In my wet dreams, I'm killing myself hurting to find if you can put your mind to this cornish dream of Cavendish and hashish
Stuck in the stitches, and the ******* don't drip blood and sweat it
Ukraine leave us from the 1990s, too late the third stone from the sun has taken three turns already
Murders on the mystery train, never reach the orient station looking for a whimsical refill
Halting sloth the indolent, I remember redolently like moth attracting to the blazing coruscating gleam, that's when a screaming teen becomes an upstart or a fiend
With an iridescent grin, caviling on the shore asking more from jackknifed business kitsch photos of the crosses
Throwing them in the trash, just like that
Ire of the nation broken with the lugubrious sleep of dinners after the summer's madness, hurt by the locked hearts in an armed madhouse looking at everything like geniuses
Asking what does it mean? Motifs and everything, lintels on the fluorescent signs on numinous streets caressing our wires, hanging by the piano wire
Waning adolescence now has a name in Hades' beard made of fiery pubescence that doesn't wanna listen
Tantamount to the king's orders, ligature marks on the hands that only know cuffs
The que glibly glistens in the lively dungeon
Hosted by bacchanal and mistresses, Elizabeth Bathory in the company of friendly books full of picturesque pedestrians on the streets of angry murders with ****** sleeved shirts
Blackened lackeys looking for a toss of change or pederasty with Countess Dracula
Moloch, you have made my life changeable despite skiffs
Moloch, I hang in the balance of the skirmishes of scorching fire burning at the midriffs
Easter bloc, ropes hanging for whoever doesn't wanna burn in the witch fire, sold for 200 pounds in a dilapidated home, till the berserk wind blows the candle out, old under Tudors that say a lot in a few words about style in art as slavery is merrily rampant
Killing the people, in the name of the republic of 1968 reminiscent of Phoenician Lands, rueful murmurs arouse the twisted looks turning out the traitors
From the rapidly changing wind, that brushes our hair and kills the pain of hanging to our families in bunkers
From the road of hope, I find some affliction in the forgiveness
Of my lord in whom I find breadth, heareth, endeth the breath that lendeth thy will, in the lengths of my souls searching for horizons in Old Earth
I died with my elegy in 1968, the wind still hoists flags in my name in death three years in the latter

DARK FOREST
I am the dusky woods.
Deep darkness is my core and zest.
Dark forest, someone's life is happening there.
To get themselves  lost is there only fear .
Everyday  i see huge fire flying in the air suss !! its the fancy imagination.
Carved is someone's own creation .
Hue winds are frilling around .
Neon is the world round .
S s s !!hey !! I m there in million colors , i m there in every imagination , i m there in deep sea , i m in you .
To get me there are only few.
If you get that dark, deep forest in your core Dancing is your inner being in me, its the addiction of nature trance.
As , THIS CREATURE'S SOUL IS ADDICT OF NATURE TRANCE .........

Lungs now constrict as the strength flees my knees
And I drift through the years on antiquities breeze.
Visions so vivid, the present dissolves
Till I’m standing in memories, fully resolved.

I’m drunk in a dorm room, surrounded by friends,
Not knowing I’ll never be with them again.
We revel and toast the delights which await,
Until the dawn breaks and we’re forced through the gates.

Impaled by the arrows of numerous clocks,
I fall through adulthood and beg time to stop.
A day’s now a decade, I’ve nothing to show
For the years that I’ve wasted not chasing my goals.

I stumble through life like a drunken old coot,
To numb to suss out the dregs from the loot.
Scenes spiral out from my blind inner eyes
And dissipate swiftly as dreams become lies.

Snapped back to the present, I stare at a screen
And continue my work as I hear my soul scream