A Stick In the Mud

A Stick In The Mud the ground was wet on that hot day beautiful ashes torn in the mockery of its sphere yet I stand alone here waiting waiting for a next move to be made my couch is my friend a dismal purpose to construct my laziness onto a distant land I seek yet alone on my two feet I washed the residue off my face this time I see a mere reflection of what's good inside days of endless worry in such a reflective way humble myself to bow the knee to pray words can express the love that one has inside Some search as if nomadic herdsmen in sight others ponder the reluctance to reach heaven's door still inside there are screams falling apart at the seams we sweep the rubbish under the rug falling head long into the vile extreme we slowly come unglued as fools learn to swim yet I'm stuck in the mud with the hope to endure the steam of hot lava erupting from within one can become carnal if their head is not on straight tossing and turning through the madness of the day release the fire from within to find the hidden desire with out a cause to reflect in its sparkling array of brilliance intact