The thing that I used to crave
most
was my second hand music
created through my closed eyed bones,
and my own slippery hands.
Next came the lengthy desire for enlightenment,
any coloring book illusion could never be my pacifier,
I needed some satiation through the painful yet
empowering contraction of being alone.
Then out of the cave came ambition
which tied to sex neck marks
and detached partnership played the Les Paul.
The latter craving plays the hardest
on the teeter-totter, UP and DOWN
on the rusty balance beam.
My living notes played and written
were detailed analysis's through my bi-focal
like cataclysmic juices spraying from the
atom bomb, you felt them
first on your skin, it pushed at you from the breeze
and then came the heat that was cooked up
for the steaming masses.
My teeth have since shifted
and my diet differs now.
My hunger is still for patience since I fight and then
acquiesce. It's surely a tempting CGI effect
when my dreams play with my
eyes, pushing my lips to
create conflict and then to solve it.
Like I can just act like some robot
lacking a memory or a placated punching bag.
Fire It UP!!!
Figure It Out!!
Don't Fool Yourself!
I feel the shift.
Per usual, it's feet first
and on the boat that was once a raft.
Remember,
I have been in the woods alone.
You have been there too.
