Had this writer's block for long time now.
but my friend Nick just forced me to scratch my brains and write something..
here's is the thing we wrote last night, combine efforts..
The rain hangs high as my breath escapes me and my blood begins to boil...
Like vapors of my cells leaving me bit by bit, when i sigh
The long walk I had begun with footsteps so deliberate, propelled by gallant ambitions..
And fleeting glimpses of a heart to return to....
But can not go back.. I set ablazed the bridge to my past..
Now this present is for my future and future can only be my present..
So my every gesture means to hurl itself against this aura of white heat,
And I feel the depths of me become as tempered steel, where tenderness once moved against confusion...
Now no muddle , no mess.. but I should confess..
Its not just the pain of revival for 'to be' but it is indeed strain to devour the 'yore'..
In truth what now moves me is purely mundane, even as minerals my passion combust,
so consumed is the clarity which I must mourn, of placenta, of the dew...
Those lucid wrought of crystals.. like hayaline thought.. I wish I knew
so I sigh..
I walk this long walk.. my breath escapes.. as rain hangs high..