Psychosomatic Antics

Can you not see me now?

Am I not one who bleeds?

Psychosomatic antics I

find myself on my knees.

Here I find ink left behind

left for prying eyes that I

would like to project effects

of this life which I call mine.

I am pounding on paper

ripping at filament thin

organizing the unorganized

words hurling from within.

A shot of adrenaline pushed

through and under my flesh.

I grab at my substance here

a thousand beats I’m refreshed.

Blood rushes to consume me

as it does I look around to see

that which flows into the sea

of my own making I conceive.

I would set a tune to ignite

these words in great chords.

Ones that move some feet

while in others what I adore.

I am humbled please hear

this sound where here I call

to voices of reason of that

which rise above trees so tall.

Unto the reason in madness

all I have is but filthy dust;

that which I would solidify

at times is hardly enough.

So here on my knees I scream

and I call you friend it seems

that all of me I’m not pleased.

Please forgive my ill disease.

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