this is the point when my words become used
in efforts to conjure the totems of a satisfied existence
that may be waiting patiently along my path ahead.

the words that i will speak and write from here on out
will form the framework of the life i must possess

the emotions that dwell behind me
have done me no service
and must be released


Here I am, sweet supple world of chaotic wonderment

It is I, a strange traveler, seeking madness
like the juice pouring from the corners of your lips
seeks it's way to the dirt below

What next kindred spirit might sing in harmony
outside the courtyard of my time

I beckon you in,
glorious vessel,
so that you might nudge me
closer to that which i've sought

We shall marry our arms
in the sort of congregation that
only we could ever follow