2in1

windmills dont exist in my mind      
   only on the plain      
all i know is what it is to be alive      
   yet death provides life’s frame      
       
       
sometimes i feel i’m dreaming, watching      
 other times i feel right here      
   my emotions cloud my mind, my vision      
              i’m just a particle of fear      
       
        lisping lipid-lips,      
           rap, to blood-soaked, pimpled ears      
                i’ve left so much of my spirit      
                in those Past oh-so-nears      
     
     
     
i tried to see my path ahead      
but twisted it, as i divined      
i crashed and burned in a broken bush      
and smoke blurred my tracks behind      
       
now i hold my brow in hand      
and coax my yearning skull      
illiterate illiteration......      
this past is the future’s to tell      
       
       
i muffle my screaming eyes,      
           as i lid them shut      
and Spirit massages my mind      
           as i bounce within my ruts      
       
       
my angel-tongued friend of old      
      has closed her book on me      
she gave me Faith, she heard      
my disgrace, and now has set herself free      
       
in marriage, in career      
in things i dont hold dear      
but wish to have,      
    wish to......      
   
       
   
 
           The truth of my      
         emptiness is always      
              here to be      
                   read      
       
           The truth of my      
          being  lies  in things      
                   unsaid      
       
           The truth of my      
            virtue, is that      
            I do have none      
       
           The truth of my      
            deceit, is that      
           it’s been and gone      
       
   
              The truth of my truth      
          is truer than this paper is white      
      Yet, without the black-hole of my despair      
         I would never have seen the