windswept dreams chased into a corner,
darkness engulfing each and every inch of solace
each and every piece of sanity
limp, wet, with yesterday's blood, sweat and tears
it doesn't matter now
because nobody cares
in between a dream, a rock and a hard place
lies the moment of clarity
the idea that reality could be so much better than what you've been given
stacked, rhymed, reasoned and forgiven
this life wasn't meant to be lived
it was meant to be felt, challenged and breathed into a soul
a soul without refuge in a body and a mind
holding it hostage
a soul, intricate and held together with the threads of hope
the ability to nurture, grow and cope
channels flip back and forth across static into the heavens of
eternal endlessness and
blank canvas becomes stained with mental hues, that align
and infuse
this shit could be something
it could really be something
but even in the seconds that begins to unfold
and time tells a story that was already told
it stings and burns with the religious burden of faith
when more suffering lies ahead
a head
filled and stuffed with straw
perched in a field of corn, hung high on a four way
but a puppet to scare the crows, you willing scarecrow
the crows who pick and pull you from your wits
you've come undone now
your senses are blowing into the sky
