Wild Are We Collaboration With Maria Simmons, J.Antonio Helm, and Michelle Brayley Green

Wild are we that were caged away.
As though freedom encourages chaos and chaos warrants insane.
Wild are we that laid in another's shadow to have our longing stew and boil over,
released to find redemption in an unknown name.

She longs for the day when she can let go of the pain trapped inside.
The agonizing thoughts from which she can never seem to hide.
The torment and worry, anxieties leave her bitter and cold.
The severity of her struggle, To herself only been told.

And wild is she trying to live against and with one's past.
Wild is she when released to a threshold of judgement to simply be...she.
Wild to be free is she to walk with burdens and allow them be her wings,
To fly away through life so effortlessly.

In the usual bar, the usual, model.
Little black dress etc etc.
I didn't realize how long she had been caged, until I opened that door, but I'd never be able to forget her name.
I all ready knew how it would end..
As it always does...

And how wild was she entangled between me and satin sheets.
Release of tame, to give way a ruthless beast.
Wild was she the moment set free to ride the tide of thine mind,
Sink through me veins, wild through me she seeps.
Morning she took me words and a concert T.
No goodbyes...just an image embedded...stained sheets and a memory.

For I was her savior, as she was mine.
Two lost souls traveling the same road, together, but always alone.
Engaging same battles, finding peace amid struggles, finding hand not unlike one's own.
Not a one night stand, for I knew her, although I knew not from where.

But wild was she, needed to be set free.
Me hand could only grasp the edges, the seams of her edges as she slipped away on broken wings.
Wild to be...forever...a memory.
Wild things not meant to stay in any form but, memory.

Was it real? Perhaps only a dream, a memory. The touch, the smell. Real to me, perhaps others view it an illusion, brought on by my empty state of confusion.
I'll fill an empty place, that wasn't empty before.
For she was empty and full all at once, and always longing for more.

Wild was she and this an undying thirst...
For pain... for pleasure... release of all that hurts.

Sunday morning coming down.
Unreasonably sunny.
Pull a hat and shades on.
I will consider the absurdity of being while walking my dog....

Always the sun finds me when she returns to memory in dark...

And me thinks....

Oh how wild we are...