Humming

The master or the slave
Goddamn that's so cliché 
But no less true

Inspiration from seclusion
Inspiration from domination and ownership
Pinned down by sniper-fire-of thoughtless pigs
By the mundane judgmental droolings
Of goose-step-sleepwalkers

Or tingling skin
Eager for the next moment's 
Lightning-fast-strike
Of simple moving air
Wafting splendid-luxurious-scents
From beautiful passerby

This is what it's like
Inside the head, the heart, the...
It's all the same and nothing more
Than a metaphor

When in that moment
The whining hum
Of Mania
Blisters otherwise arid-mental-skin

This is your moment
You're more than might fit in the room
And no one understands that
There is always something 
Looming silently
Beneath the comfortable silence
Of what too many see as still

While the shackles 
Of ho-hum day/night
Expectation
Might skew the onlooker's view

A Lord of Moments 
Is looking on
To capture 
And fashion anew
The bloom from the torturous
Tilling and hoeing 
From seconds eternal
That's noticed by 
But a few

I want to eat words
I want to swallow heaps of bursting-at-the-seams-volumes
I want to choke on them
As they try to fight each other
On their way down my esophagus
I want to have to
Wrap my hands around my throat
To squeeze them through
Their syllabic-traffic-nightmare
To their acidic freedom

They've been so fleeting 
In the time AF
They're spectres taunting me
Simple phrases
Bound by some
Unseen force

There must be some
Archaic kraft
By which to ingest and regurgitate
Those ghostly words 
To the brain

This cloudy fucking coma
Has Stripped me
Left me a mumbling golem 
Going through the motions
Of Something other
Something greater than
What was taken
The Shadow hasn't even graced me

I visit there, on occasion
And the other, the greater than
Pulls aside a curtain
And whispers to my
Ether-mind

I miss being barely here
The kind of barely here
From which connection is borne
​
One can no more hunt it down
Than they can eat words
Hoping for a miracle