At times,

My pencil falls to the paper.

This is its course:

That it knows its nature

And purpose

When I cannot find mine,

My compass

Midway on my path.

On the other nightly lone times,

The pencil floats, hovers

Over the cesspool.

It knows not where to dive.

I must reach upward,

Out, and pull inward.

It begins to scream; I

No longer can,

My heart drops to the center.

Thump, thump.

Drive your emotions the

Opposite way.

Turn.

Take the backseat,

But don't advance here.

Burn, burn.

Stop

Drop

Roll,

Cause you have

A fire

You need to

Quench.

People don't enjoy

Flames

When they are

Inside people,

And you - can you

Enjoy them

Licking at your nerves,

Tenderly kissing

Those knuckles, eyebrows,

Voice?

Thrust them away.

Drop drip.

Say everything wrongly,

That is what you do.

So stop speaking; but

Don't them hear the silence.

Just look and

SMILE for once.

THUD.

Head due North.