Plight

How I separate my desperation
from this vapor-like illusion,
I've been deluded by, elusively
conclusive in its impossibility.

Terrorism running rampant in a vagrant
mind, low and sinful, static and stationary
in it's paralyzing thought.

Strike a match, a chord, a melody,
light up the revelation of salvation
that again and again falls victim to
this duality, insanity of the Enemy.

Minions that magnify the magnitude
of the solitude I find myself steeped in
bleakly looking, seeking, searching
for answers apart from the solution.

I use my heart, my pen and my mind
for a recreational destruction and
disembodiement of truth.

This monomaniacal, tyrranical
absorption and distortion of life
and limb and liberty,
all to come to
the conclusion-

It's not about me.