I am a strange man who stares into nothing.

I am a man who has seen the darkest side of his barren mind.

I know more about the inner workings of souls than the birds who feast unending.

I watch the sun setting on my cold heart once again.

Bleeding I hold it to the gods of nothing.

This course that is flowing from my veins

these candle light dinners that only sing of pain

I wonder when and why the sorrow will settle

A bonnet and kettle set to tame

This fiery heart of which god has rained

Down a pain so tight

that for 3 years I did not see the light

I must write these things, for in creation there is stirring

I am expressed through a hazel glass,

the long wrought works, A curious aftermath,

BUt that clock simply stares, Times etching does not care

I wonder at the numbers that simply cannot believe

That there was one creator who conceived,

Everything, infinity never stopped, A giant bucket

That multiplying ever more,

This play... that gods act out in a stupor

 

Turn with me as the beat and the songs change

I will write this for my family and those whom I love

I know not what this is, A maniac depressive love note wrapped in a sad attempt, this is me, more than I have ever shown

the one man whom I have barely known,

As the days turn I Landon have grown,

Brilliant people have filled my life

I was not content to sip in peace,

No my words had to spill from every crease,

This chaos I know now will never cease,

Who are we all, and where do we go?

There are some who believe in glow of a light,

Where I look deeper into the night

Fading now is this restless chatter

My minds attempts to flatter,

An ego such as mine,

And a petty simple mind,

I truly am nothing, and every day I know that more and more,

Oh what plans do I have stored,

Have I saved winters feast, Or do I still have to slay my beast,

 

Whom is the muse? Can you refuse her?

Is she blessed or damned,

I stand near her hand,

Trying to fit a pen to the windowsils

Let us speak of loss and joy,

Both playthings to mechanical ploys,

We are simply a channel for the thoughts we touch waking,

These simple minds shattered to breaking,

Once in a great while,

We are burdened with a great undertaking,

I can only see the horizon slip,

Along with my name and soul,

I write in hopes that you will know,

What it is to feel the flow,

Oh which gods and goddesses have bled their souls

 

Fading and falling this my last attempt

You may read this with contempt

I care not for it is my gift to the world

I stolen much from it's earthen bowl

Yes yes yes yes yes the words have returned in force and I can't stop the workings of this thing. I stare slowly into the maw of darkness that stares back. I know that I fear death, and all it entails, it hungers for our inevitable return.

 

why do we fear it? why do we run? how much time do I have left

How many beats to this sad dance

what is life what is it?

it is too much for me to tangibly touch

I have to try, I have to yearn to learn everything, I must before the rust of nothing spins me into a sphere of coldness

what sense lies in these mad thoughts

or a ideas so valiantly sought