My fierce heart cries out

Beating and blasting the chest wall

HELP it screams

A silent cavern where the noise stays echoing inward

No one can hear they just see the intense eyes and scowl line

He’s an emotional guy

They say

Wears his heart on his sleeve

They say

They know not the internal mechanisms of my elaborations

Rather they know the by product of feelings the

Miasma of passion the reconciliation of endless strife

Battle of the inner-mind fought on a blood streaked plain

Bodies smoking in the ruins and the chilling hum of empty caravans and

Twisted armor

Here is where I am 200 feet tall and swinging an axe

Here is where I am tiny and lost

Here is where my footsteps crush the oppressive whine of the machine

Here is where I cower in fright

Madness is not the result of this affray

It is a byproduct like the passion

Really I am just a book worm

Passive unless provoked

Quiet except when pontificating

Maybe that’s the lie I tell myself

Really loud I am

Expansive, explosive, extroverted to the nth power

Highly aggravated

Defiant and occasionally rude

This tempered by some siren in me

Some dancing light that is musically centered

She sings a song of penance and creativity

She lifts my heart out of the mud bog

She douses my blades in chill waters

She strokes my fever with cool hands

The battle rages on

Always fighting for the perceived good

Lashing out against the injustice and standing up for the legless and heartless

No backing down ever

But so tired sometimes

So tired

Judge me in your way then, pass on your triviality to my visage

I stand for you, for me, for us.

No time for sleep.