Having a Picnic With Your Mind (A Tribute to the Poet)

It's really most comical...

these surrounding faces

with drawn on voices

clown personalities

So I'm turned into my corner



More concerned and curious of you!

dear reader.

The fellow poet

Doctors... of the mind.



I value this time

when I escape the incandescent

artificial surface.

Climbing cool steps

down this wanton dungeon.



And upon entering

I trail my fingers

along the rocklike structure

My core pounds violently

as passion overwhelms...



The silence is roaring here!

thick screaming tempests

wishing to break

the zephyr.



With hurried whispers

filling the vibrantly onyx cave

I am consumed

by your words.



"He walks the night,

        his lust for blood insatible..."

the scent

the desire

I pull on my hood, peering

potential victims...



The seasons turn

fertility and life

transition to frozen

barren wasted breath...

As you cry

"O! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!

      I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!"



In desperate betrayal,

"I trusted you!"

Flooding my mind

with thrashing anguish

And the moisture fills me

as I bleed your heart

of pain.



In this aberration

I found my addiction.

for it is you!

my cherished poet,

whom I lay beside

while I slumber.

A fondled lover.

My muse

as I glide through battled

mediocrity.



Each word a speck

of sand in the hourglass

of wonder.

But...

I smashed the top on that prison!

and poured you into this

smoky sputum mouth.



Choking down dry

soggy emotions

I exhaled the steam

moving from the circumference

I settled down

to have a picnic

      with your mind...