Every decision I make is pushed by the ghost of my younger self and pulled by the blurry image of my future.

She is safe in
her madness.
A comfortable
tomb, convenient,
but suspect.
I wish it were
a gentle lunacy,
like Don Quixote,
almost admirable.
But it's rabid like
a berserker or
harpy, shrieking at
love and light.
destroying everything.

Some people are
drunk on power, pride,
and control.
When they
wake up and realize
they aren't God,
they change
direction or perish.

Your words are flowers
Blooming in interactions
Early blossoms grow

The creative mind
is a beast never still
a nervous high strung fish
that swims in a restless sea
forever searching
chasing thought worms
which may not come to be
it needs waves of ideas
to spin it round and round
the ocean of its notions
would dry up on solid #ground