My catharsis. Ramble about your sodding feelings, why don't you?

My soul yearns it’s burny and churny

Like Bill Ferny’s who was sent to attack with the Riders in Black

And I can’t put a finger on the feeling that lingers 

Inside my mind the rhyme of time blinds and finds the winds of my minds eyes

I want that love I want it back I want Billy Ferny to attack

But I want it different I want it smarter, barter?

Beards and weirds and fears and tears.

My heart longs for You.

Won’t you fill me up with You?  

Where are you?  Why do I doubt?  Why does my mind’s eye have a looming snippet of faith that wants to hold but wants to be bold and told to mold to knowledge, not Knowledge.

Distraction is the faction and reaction of action and passion

I want to hold it.  I want to be, I want it.  Won’t you fill me up with You?

Won’t You come if you are?  If you will be, if you ever have been?

I find some solace in tunes and grooves that move my delight the flight of brainwaves that acknowledge Knowledge but follow shallow, hollow, willowing thoughts and action.

Why can’t I find the reason for pleasin’ my cheesin’ teasin’ teeth, but really.  Not partially, in a way that I feel is real but kneel to peal the eely, oily, coily, boily scabs off of my soul from the wounds that hounds found round the town of my deepest, utmost in my lowest, drowning farther down than you could begin to find meaning or reason or despair. 

But it is full of despair.  One that is found but not identified.  That is prominent but has no face.  

You cannot recognize this feeling.  It looms and wounds the soul pull towards lulling and mulling myself into a reason feasible enough

tou

gh You

say.  Maybe you care.  Maybe I no longer recognize it as a name, but an entity that maybe does indeed hear me when I cry out but does not answer in my time.  in My. time.

How selfish for the selfless and barbaric for the civilized.

Should I waver, should I stray?  No, I’ll stay for the promise I know you gave me.  But is it there to bear: a beautiful mare?..

Ee age.  

A signal too subtle to single out the stupid.

Snippets of wealth in an otherwise wordy structure.  You’ll find them.  Keep what you like, discard what you hate.R