It is a sickness

as i go hungry

wanting more

from what’s less

and where I am

is at crossroads

the best of believers

create the most doubt

I shout inwardly

inside my own

screams, intensely

deafening

to define

the reason and

rhyme

behind

intentions

an ambiguous

nature

needing nurture

instead of torture

an artist

is a soul

such as that

i give tat

for tit

till it’s

unconscious

my conscious

knows better

but my desires

do not

I shit

and I’m off the pot

relived

that all i conceived

is before me

and i have jitters

my heart palpitates

irregularly

and the only thing

to stop it

is explosion

imploding internalized

thought

imploring the expertise

of exploring

running off instinct

and luck

out of the muck

that made

for rainy days

that seemed to last

forever

and always

as i engrave

the epitaph

on my grave

it reads

Here lays a brave soul

who took control

and never looked back

while still feeding

off the past

looking forward

he dreamed

that nothing is impossible

if you have a dream

my advice to you

bold soldier

never let

the fire

smolder