I am the purple child
perched upon my purple cloud.
Peering down
into a plastic sea
of apathy
and here,
I feel nothing.
Empty.
Lost between thoughts
fueled only by blank stares
into the black abyss of my inspiration.

Crowded illusions
muted only by forced metaphors
crouch,
hiding in my clouded mind
behinds blinds of background static.
Stifled only by my own inability
to understand my reactions
exactly as they happen.
"What in the hell has become of my passion?"
This question
i ask it
again
and again
to myself,
but still,
i feel nothing.
Distant.
Separated from sincerity.
Unaware
of the invigorating energy
enveloping the air around me.
Esoteric answers to confounding questions
realized with every breath,
but here i sit
asphyxiated.
Choking on my own pollution.
Searching for something inside myself,
something beautiful,
something real,
and yet,
I feel nothing.
Faded.
Finding my way to the narrow edge
of my far too familiar cloud,
looking down...
letting go...
giving up...
I jump.
.
.
.
Jerked from my senses
relentlessly falling.
Drawing life from all extremities.
Suddenly,
unexpectedly
a flicker of forgotten emotion
smolders.
Screaming to the surface
as the wind whips across my body
the purple runs
and purpose again begins to take form
in my mind
in this moment in time
twisting through the sky
I find myself crying out,
shouting,
trying to get it all out
quickly,
accurately
before i hit the ground
inevitably annhilating
this exiliration
racing through my veins.
Anticipating the sound
of my body on concrete.
Pain pounding through every nerve ending.
Crushed bones contort my form,
leaving me breathless
again.
But untill then
I fear nothing.
Because only a life with fire
is worth dying for
and at least
in this moment
i feel
something.

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