Butter Brain

I won't let this river town melt my brain into a thick and flatulent blob.  The odorous forest breathes a thick fog over clear glass.  What once was, no longer is.  Forward and up aided by the weathered poems of past, a sword of logic and a wisdom staff.  

A howling night and winter blue has tattered window and garden.  The broken lamp, sooty and unkempt.  In a day with grey and white clouds, sunlight peeking through.  From a juniper sky, sparks flutter in fear of wind.  A breath through the yawning door and the orange pixels catch fire to the flesh renewed.

It took tea for me to see,

I am to be rested and powerful

I am to be pure and true

There is no other highest high 

after once tasting virtue

All other meaning melts like tissue in the sea

My body the orchard for a crisp mind

My labours the pruning of waste and wonton

Though it feels as if I am backwards and below where I once was

there is no goal and no end

The first step to begin
is to realize, once again,
that in this luke-warm saddened world, I am alone
No forecast of anything but a drag-down friend
No one here shares a shard of my dreams or an ounce of my pain
All would be unmoved by my gradual slide into a beer-battered corpse
There is a huge difference between planning to go and going
between wanting to be and being
between fearing failure and visualizing accomplishment

"I will go to Geneva and I will receive a full scholarship"

A man sees clearly, for at least a moment

and tastes from the bitter waste, the acid citrus of training

burns again
A purpose towards which to aspire
a spire