Spelunking the psyche.

You only took a peek in the dark cave of my psyche.
You have no knowledge of how deep or how dark it truly gets in there.
You cannot possibly fathom the mental beasts that lurk within, 
Out of sight; moving around the periphery of your vision; 
Only a fleeting glance during a conversation gives the slightest illumination.
Each poem I write is akin to a candle with which to light your path.
A tiny flickering light for your passage in my gloom while you trespass.
But still, the fact that the flame on the wick flickers and sputters lend hints.
Hints that there may be exits ahead; 
Ways in or out through a fractured thought.
Holes in the fabric of my mind allowing the flow of air, if not hope or light.
By all means take time to explore further, but in turn take care.
Do not become as lost as I am in the darkness, 
Lest your own eyes become as unaccustomed to the light as mine.
With that said, I crave your visitation.
Solitude is not a virtue that sits well on my mantle.
So welcome, spelunker.
Welcome to my cave, my pot hole.
Welcome to my mind and soul.
Stay a while and the beasts may become less of a bother to you;
Less of a burden to me. 
Perhaps in time they may be tamed.
Perhaps if I write enough poems; 
Light enough candles;
The darkness may still be pushed back.
If we can locate the cracks we can open them wider to let more light in.
Who knows what I may look like when I gaze within at that time?
Will I like what I see at that point?
Will I recognise who I have become?
Only time will tell. 
Don your gear and set forth for my cave; my schism; my fault.