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Personal Note:

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Poem

How I do spiral to the depths of devastation,
self involved and opposed.
Coiled up as a serpent eager to shed
what was once a smile behind closed doors.
On the other side I lie vulnerable…
Desperate to impress,
caress what rises with the sun.
I realize each day is not the same…
minds over matter, matters over heart
and heart over unnatural hope,
hope for which sees time standing still.
Am I brave in what I say
or are my words just a puzzle to others?
How diverse is a mind that it knows only itself?
I stop to take a drag of my cigarette
as I look at the night sky,
trying to imagine each mind being their own…
perhaps we all do really live alone.
Upstairs I hear the knocking,
shocking thoughts, opinions verse ideas
creating myself each day I open my eyes
yet wondering who I am amongst what I create.
I sit alone…
cursed with the state of my own mind,
yet infatuated with the idea of being creative.
Am I free to be inspired
or am I bound by that I aspire to be?
I wrap my arms around myself
believing my own love is possible.
Amongst “perfection”
I find comfort in all the obscurity…
Simple or obscene…it’s just a thought,
forever my state of mind.

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