I’m alive and still breathing, on a quest to find whatever gives the world meaning. Am I just a child dreaming? Middle-aged grieving? Old, feeling bold from skinny-dipping in reason? Done, romanticizing demons.. (...I love romanticizing demons...) Giving them credence.. See them as impediments blocking future achievements... (...I see them as my medicine helping me through the seasons...) Slow dance with them more than I’d like, let the darkness snake my soul until it covers my light. Never suffocate, instead I let the heat rage admit it’s a false cage, a mirage in a desert gaze, wisdom in the current stage. Set ablaze, healing cleanse, burning sage, smoking out the burning page, nothing left but ashes and malaise. Look for ways to savor battles in never-ending wars. It’s like raising the earth’s mantle to siphon out the core. Multilayers of mind matter with patterns reinforced. See the self is its own savage, its own provocateur. See the self is its own savage, its own provocateur. I, myself, am my own savage, my own provocateur.