Behind Cryptic Doors

Clumsily tripping, over our own feet Sometimes, minds aren't meant to meet perhaps we're off just a micro beat thoughts obscured, behind glass covered in sleet Sure there are those, who wish to exploit but really in the end, what's the point? We're all merely visitors, in this joint Trying our best, with words to annoint Cloisterd in shadows, wanting to be found glimmers of earlier selves, clowning around When others laugh, why do our fears compound? Downturned mouths, strangled crying sounds Embarrassing moments, last an eternity Sometimes I'm my very worst enemy Thinking hidden messages, are meant for me Is that what poetry is meant to be? I let essential words, roll off my lips Credentials have no taste, when I take deep sips Preferring a message, from a page that drips My mind unfocused, takes many trips I like the power, of words intrinsic Flavors and texture, is what I like to lick If it's too saccharin and sweet it makes me sick My pleasure comes, from words hot and thick So you see, I too like to word explore Words found, behind a cryptic door I start upright, end up on the floor Keep on reading, until I can't absorb anymore! Written at the request of James Horn. Response to his "to Come Back Again" Poem. Thanks James, our interaction led to a poem of the day!