I finished polishing this up just a moment ago.. I'm not sure what I meant to say, originally.. But every piece of work I create does or did have meaning.

#Wells of light

I shan't run out of gas,
For I'm falling as I cry
To the echoing, red-skied chasms down below,
Where broken skeletons dead rest quiet, and dream of living once more.

Fear is a verb
Also, a noun,
An abstract accumulation,
Of all not safe and sound. Hate is a word
That chews up your soul
That burns out your spirit.
And leaves a hero's shell behind.

These things that Fear is proxy,
Of what I let Hate upon unbridled
Are here below in bullet form,
Now listen as I grow tired.

-Afraid of the night and the day

-Afraid of darkness and those lights too bright

-Afraid of the twilight for it signals the coming night

-Afraid of the sunrise for during the sunrise the sun rises

-Hate people coming near

-Hate woodwork, for it is real and doesn't fear like I do

-Hate needing to breathe, thus depending

-Hate hating those things that deserve no hate yet I hate nonetheless

I shan't run out of gas,
(I pray this up to God)
For if I might, disasters shall be
For if I might, I may have to think;
Thinking is painful and hard and dangerous and hard,
When I need to think I stop thinking
And during those times I think prefer to sit behind the wheel and:

SpIiIiIiIiIiI
IiIiIiIiIiIiIiIi
IiIiIiIiIiIiIiIi
IiIiIiIiIiIiIin
(I spin the wheel, for that makes me .. forget)
(I spin the wheel for that drowns out deep thoughts)
(I spin for when I spin I spin and fly spinning)
(I spin for I spin, am for I am insane)
(..)
(spin)

I'm afraid of lit-well established homes,
For I remember how I'm not established, nor well-lit.
I prefer the heat without light caused by fear that we see,
And it's all inside my head.

4/3/13-5/12/13