What Brilliance From Yawning Window Breaks.
Entire worlds of other's lives Lie behind each lit window in the night.
What Brilliance From Yawning Window Breaks?
In the wee hours that psychopaths, drunks and insomniacs frequent, I sit here wide awake, killing only time. No longer consumed by the bottle but battling with bottled up emotions. I usually find myself able to get a grip, but only on a pen, and my convictions that are locked tightly inside my brain cells, can only be freed by my dancing fingers fiddling with the keys. Eventually the sandman grows tired of waiting, and storms out, flinging a dust-devil of sleep dirt in my eyes that drives me
to tented sheets. What is physical is often stronger then what I know as inner strength. My muscled hands
could go on typing or scribbling for hours but without motivation I would simply be documenting gibberish. Why am I driven to capture my elusive soul and bind it in a paper prison? Does anyone else long to be the warden of their dreams? Sometimes my late night shifts of pressing thoughts into fine whines exposes my dark side. This leaves many
crumpled balls of failure shot with heated rage like bullet-tins against the wall. while I sit ankle deep in a pile of man-made snowballs. But at other times I grow giddy as the gods grace my sacrifice of time with blessings penned. You will see such phenomena whenever you are out late, cruising on a lonely highway, You'll notice one lighted window in a vast field of darkness. Perhaps it is just the wail of a newborn rousing its semi-unconscious
caretakers, but it could be the cry of a poet taking hold of his consciousness
and rousing it with great care.
© 2009 Matthew Frederick Blowers III