i was sifting through the newspaper
exaggerated my mind floating down the river
staring at the empty cupboards
does gaining my sanity entitle me to loosing my creativity
my greatest fear is to never again feel inspiration
find myself in old age without ever taking a chance
never to once again experience passion i once had
lost for the sake of removing myself out of the sway of lifes pendulum
i chose being numb to maintain the status quo of sanity
normality is slowly fading away from reality
to a constructed member of society
rigid, homogeneous, yet beautiful as all is
inescapable and confining
as any creature caged against its free will  

so remind me of postcards
of moths that flutter by in a moment of flight
projected from a street light
to shadows of untold love
dire attraction frightfully paralyzing
unrequited seeking to worship through mesmerism
the inspiration that sets in motion metaphysical participation
that i may find the middle ground
between wild and wreckless
indifference and conspicuous
socially accepted vestigial and auspicious
ways of living