Burn the Candel til the Stick is Gone, then Tip your Hat and Say Goodbye

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The cats out of the bag
Labeled, knowing stares
Knowing that I care
Am inclined, want

The worry always tangible and irrefutable
The neurosis growing worse particularly in this unchecked role
Yet, I would probably just wilt or whither worse if I found what I'm not strong enough to know
Popularity level, likability, if it's a big enough bird, we're of the same feather I suppose
Entirely different species live here
A people inside a people here or there, worn to dust, the remnants of themselves
Unrecognizable, in the innocent view, of this oval constant perception
I penetrate realities and they penetrate my pure still peace

But still I try to find my beliefs
And meanwhile stave off concerted conceit
To be concerted for what and productive how
To live and be a being, and let innate knowledge and intellect do and absorb and know and think
After all the grass grows on it's own
I'll ask a question to my elder, just like at any time and any place
And I'll let myself be sewn together and also change my mind on me
Yet I won't have the me-syndrome for long
Cause I'm jumping off don Juan's cliff of the consciousness
Skeptically seeing common sense
Admitting that it's both hard and easy
Wondering in this cold and warm emotion

It's been a long time, it is a long time, and it's going to be a long time, my mind with these words seizures up wants to damn return to fever-minded feverish mind glances, and my eyes twitch cause they are not beyond the small flame and flickering
Always shutting themselves off and shuttering-afraid of gail-force god
Even though it's out there