Cyclone expands past the reach of my wingspan,
attempting to withstand the uncontrolled substance
that is becoming detrimental to my existence;
The Cyclone,
she's very persistent,
always on my heels,
biting at my ankles,
nibbling on my toes,
she comes so close,
she's beginning to tickle my nose;
I try to be pessimistic,
but my thoughts are becoming clouded and in-descriptive,
feeling like a smurf because where I live has me tripping;
Knowing why the brother sings the blues
and overstanding why the caged bird sings,
but when you are feeling out of tone
everything sounds wicked and construed
or am I just going through a faze of feeling lost,
dazed,
and confused;
Regardless to what I'm temporarily going through,
I must persevere and journey to where I'm traveling to…
The fortnight will soon be over
and my thoughts will return like a drunk returning sober…