The Frost.

The bus drives on
Unsteady as always.
I stare out of the window
To the frozen lakes
And I realize
Not everyone get to see this
Ever during their lives.
That I'm a part of minority
That has spent the majority of my life
In this cold, frozen space.
I don't mind the frost outside.
I'm terrified by the frost
We all seem to have inside.

Needle

This pencil is like a needle.
It's in my hand, but it could as well be in my arm
for I am addicted. I am hooked.
I need this. Hours of solitude, hours of road.
Hours of writing.
Hours of existing without the burden.
I should call someone. But I'm not going to let anyone
ruin this.
I call when I get THERE.
Not now.
Now I just enjoy these brief moments of rest.

I admit

For those who worship the form
admire the words
love the shape
I have nothing to say.
For those who worship the presence
admire the meaning
and love the mind
I have nothing I can say.

Miles to the Grave

How many miles away am I from my grave?
Guess I'll have to keep going to find out.
Though I'd rather not. I'd rather just sit here.
In dullness.
Stare out of the window
Into nothing.
Though every step seems like
The one preceeding it, it's never the same.
They always take me forward.
To somewhere else.
Towards something new.
Towards the grave.

Minor Explosion

I could tell it by your smile.
You didn't get me.
You took the insult that was never there.
You took my pen in your own hand
And wrote the insult there.
I don't blame you.
I should have been more careful.
But this minor misunderstanding
Was the sparkle that lit the fuse
And made my self-hatred explode
Out of all proportions.

Let it all burn.

I will walk out the door
I will quit this world
But there's quite a lot to do
Before I'm done.
Don't worry,  if you hate me.
The time will come soon enough.
I'll get what's coming to me.
The flower within me will close.
The candle will burn out.
I'm just feeding it.
Everything, every piece of paper
Every song, every sketch,
I will sacrifice everything.
Let it all burn.

Starve

Knowledge builds up the wall
That appears to stand a thousand feet tall
When the wall crumbles down upon us all
We will all be buried under it's weight
And it will surely leave a mark.
Instead of the fruit we eat the whole tree.
Isn't that green?
We'll aquire all the knowledge the universe beholds
Once we learn to shut up and eat.
But in this garden of Eden we rather starve to death
Than listen to anyone else
To tell us what to do.