Purged

Writing has always been an out...an art...my core.
Therefore, I pick up the pen once more.
Allow me the time to be caught up in this rhyme.
Unearth my passions, before I fully decline.
For, the daily grind is numbing and dumbing my mind.
Staying sharp is hard when the days are relentlessly outlined.
I've got a craving for something intellectual.
Dying to feast of those whom are full.
Lead me from devastation to salvation.
Propose a conversation to rid the starvation.
Give me controversy: politics, culture or religion.
Whatever it takes to reunite with my beliefs and opinions.
Psychology...philosophy...physiology?
I'm up for anything, so long as you challenge me.
Throw any topic out there for debate.
I need a theory to contemplate.
Illustrate something intricate and innovative.
Force me to remember that I am creative.
Inspire me; drag out my wisdom and wit.
I'm ready for it; I refuse to forfeit.

Divulgence

Always reaching for words...to illustrate the infinite thoughts.

Scattered.  Spellbound.  Disorientated...in my head.

Always resorting back...to mindless emotions.

Sorrow.  Sanction.  Desolation...merely dread.

Always coming up short...of what it is I wish to express.

Sardonic.  Sadistic.  Decadence...imaginings I have already said.


I must scale to superior summits.

Once again, enhance my wits.

Dig and search to find...

words to depict the portraits in my mind. 

Why Am I Here?

Am I just killing time again?
Waiting for my enchanting end?
Am I talking to myself again?
Does anyone ever even listen?
Am I wasting my night again?
Why did I bother picking up the pen?
To phrase another pointless rhyme?
What shall I write about this time?
The spiteful words that slay my father?
Perhaps, the endearment of my mother?
Things gone dreadfully wrong within our society?
How we will continue to regress by way of inhumanity?
My lovesick soul that cries like a child trapped inside?
My despise for those who have cheated and lied?
The empathy I feel for tormented spirits, while it eats me alive?
The desperation of broken hearts wishing to die?
The grotesque world I see when I step outside my door?
The greed and jealously that compels humans to be dissatisfied, always craving more?
Insecurities that haunt me when I cry myself to sleep?
Realities that taunt me while I wish to dream?
The crazed images that scatter themselves in my mind?
The sanctity of my own sanity that I am dying to find?
The faith I have lost in religion, love, and mankind?
How I still search for a single creature to be purely divine?
Rant and rave about stolen individuality?
How so few still acquire creativity?
The fascination I have with the human psyche?
How I long to be an all-knowing being?
The doubts that consistently wonder about my head?
How I dread to rest in the solitude of my lonely bed?
The fear I have of remaining in the company of only myself for eternity?
...These thoughts are bound to place me into an infirmary. 

Dressings of Expression

In a daze, staring at naked paper once again.
Wanting to clothe it with emotions, tailored in black ink.
Scatter brained, I cannot make my thoughts coincide.

You approach the entryway of my mind and situate yourself on the outside.
You will not get through the barriers I have built for the past ten years.
Never again will my heart control my mind when your fatherless essence draws near.
My hand will not play translator for the two any longer.

Still I sit with a blank gaze, tying to pour out feelings trapped within me.
Why am I incapable of smothering a lifeless tree with meaningful expression?
Empty headed, I reach for a time when I was entirely content with life.

Days of being young and naive come back to me.
Games our juvenile minds' created to fill the sunlight hours.
We imagined growing up together and staying friends forever.
Children are so innocently simplistic, they believe in only the best of everything.

My eyes fall out of focus as the words begin to dance in a murky haze.
Delusion creates a harmonious piece of work, yet its ambiance is vacant.
I cannot set my sight on any one particular notion.

Thoughts of the one gone astray and various heartaches flash before my heavy eyes.
I would take my last breath to consume the sensations of love once again.
I come by only those who inflict pain and hide behind false faces.
All the pain has weathered, yet still I weep in waiting for the one I cannot find.

Exhausted now, concentration slips through the grasp of my feeble fist.
Hours of darkness hush as daybreak screams out for me to pursue slumber.
My frustration subsides...just as adequately as this canvas is dressed...I can rest.