freeweaving

lean into it
the wind
splinters
against the force of will
you kill the pain
when you strip away the sense
of dense surprise
it was depending on catching you with
the width of pain
reigning fire

if the pen is mightier than the sword
then the keyboard is armageddon.
duck and suck stale breath
as you run for cover, lover,
I haven't any use for excuses
the loser loses.
and so does the winner,
but they stand with the illusion of victory

how much longer will hold the walls
that pens libido in the pit
deep
within
the darkest
reaches
of my bloodstone labyrinth...
he rages in cages concentric,
the razor wire does not shield desire
from the fury of his madness
but gives him new focus
and a memory of pain
he only feeds on
growing stronger every moment.


there you go, raw eruptions of words...will any become the building blocks of future poems?

only time will tell.