a prayer of inspiration

The wind is not nearly bracing enough tonight.

It's calming and balmy and chilly

while I sit here demanding hurricanes

and hail, the wind on fire coming to 

carry me away, to burn and to purge

with sandpaper skin sailing through my window.

I've tossed and turned in every reachable sea,

made my own oceans and drowned myself in them all

before the baptism could begin. 

It was a baptismal breath,

a barely palpable gasp into new being that

kept me clawing at the barricades

pushing me beneath the waves, into

catacombs crawling with spirits and spiders,

macabre reminders of dark days gone by.

The wind was silent then, is silent now.

It was lush and never lonely. 

It caressed and coddled

when I needed it to throw me down,

make me its rag doll.

Tonight, with the moon dancing in the breeze,

the jigsaw pieces meandering into place,

I'm craving destruction, the human spirit

quivering to feel confusion and pain. 

Feeling lost to feel found.

Cutting flesh to wrap it up.

Blowing towns to shreds to rebuild them.

via *