From The Lab

The Obstruction

While forging these forgotten drops of gold,
Still surprised to be howling in the dark,
Toiling for a small, random work of art,
That warm my hands from the desolate cold,
With letters and phrases I sadly stole,
To avoid the chum and swim with the sharks.

That unexpected happiness creeps in,
As I have no control over the reins,
And beats back the cynic, destroys the pain,
Back to places where men mumble and cringe,
Stumbling through darkness, tripping upon sin,
Leaving only a child, afraid and lame.

The pressures of oxygen build on me,
So I stifle the accidental breath,
Clearing that air locked deep within my chest,
Fighting the inclination to believe
That poison will burn and my veins still bleed,
But reckless men don't know of cautious steps.

Vision is shady in the fearful fog,
My sense of direction is all but gone,
Lost amongst the brute masses of the dawn,
Withholding that grave urge to get involved,
A moral question, as yet to be solved,
Stuck in the muck of the need to belong.

From The Lab

Lost To Myself

Now that they have all left,
All those ears, all those mouths,
All of their opinions,
All those fears, all those doubts,
I can finally see,
Partially through the haze
Of dark, inner shadows
Reflecting off the maze.
The labyrinth of thought,
With all it's twists and turns,
Where logic grows backwards
And every synapse burns.
Here, within the anguish
Of tragi-comic scenes,
Hiding behind tall walls,
Are fading, tired dreams;
Tired of being chased,
Leading their pursuers
Deeper into the dark,
Then losing their allure.