Hey

In case I never write another poem again, here's what I've been thinking I've had a rough time wrestling with the rigid grooves inside my red hard, head - heading nowhere really, getting no place clearly, drearily coming to a head - where spine meets brain and runs its creviced terrain it spent too many hours of my life building. Beautiful though, isn't it? All of it keeping life running - lungs breathing, heart beating, cells feeding on the energy it never wastes. Wasteful to waste such a masterful design isn't it? A little tasteless. Wouldn't it be tragic to leave this life behind - an existence no mind can hide, but mine cannot imagine, stuck in the sulci canyons I created nine years ago. We don't talk about nine years ago, me and my sulking sulci posse, not about the days when he-who-shall-not-be-named sent the grim reaper out to play with my heart. Yeah, let that sit in for a second. Every heart knows what that feels like. Guess mine couldn't take the strike, the jab, the stab in the back to a heart ripe with frozen spite, full of incredible credible lies despite all the wisdom rightful guided advice could bring my psyche took a dive, right into the fragmented canyons where this all started. Pardon my honesty. I suppose all this confused pain inside of me needs somewhere to go - a home if you will - somewhere to belong. Isn't that what we all want, after all?