- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Cones
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Sitting in a room by a fire,
My thoughts drifting like the smoke
That's curling around my fingers,
The tune of a crazy diamond
Playing in my head
And the popping of seeds in a cone
As it burns away to ashes.
Vision constricting.
Awareness expanding.
All that exists is the mind and the paper.
Words appear from a pen, not my own.
Visions of violence appear in my mind,
A knife that ends a life
And the bloodlust is all that remains.
A kick that breaks a neck
Then later a plea, "I was insane."
These cones are almost done, only three left to burn,
Tomorrow.
And the awareness keeps expanding
And the hand is hard to move,
As the dreams get more frightening
The more I want to leave,
As the cones keep on burning, only one left to go.
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