Complexed?
Or just suffering from one?

I want to save the world.
Because I am afraid to rescue my own soul from perdition.
So,
Without love
or compassion,
I set about making good works.
I carry, and I soothe,
And patiently guide those I encounter along my way.

Does any true servant know of any other way?  I serve this world faithfully, giving everything, but my soul. 

That is kept locked away in a little box, Thriving?  Rotting? Laughing?  Crying.
Who knows?  Who cares?  It is safe, and so am I.  And this way, by giving nothing I can give more.

So why is that not enough?  Why is there still a burn, where there should only be void?

Within the silence
of husks abandoned,
rest the failed kernels
of magical symphonies
never to be heard.

notes and chords
harmoniously discordant,
and bewitching rhythms join
in a story of Truth.

We are all
Composers
And
Poets
-with performance anxiety.
Our gifts lay precious, intact, and
inside.
Perfectly wasted
in perfect solitude.

Bravo…
Bravo….

Back
to the dregs.
the wellspring
of the unoriginal.
I don’t hate it –
In fact I missed you,
my crooked familiar Muse.
I’m back
until I waltz again.

step
laugh
drink
cheer
fuck
eat
roll.
anything to fill
the void
that is not-
that will not.
A hungry bitch
of a whale,
there will never be enough
to feed the silence
she
needs more.

yet we throw crumbs of
love, lust, art, adventure….
but we know,
we know
what awaits.