Sold of Ironic

Mostly disconnected from everybody else, isolation breeds my hunger...

Passion, life, control, creating, growing.  A frenzied thunder.

Crashing with the force of the horsepower of life, knocking the order into a quivering mass.

Frightened enough to forget the drive, so I end up back on my disorganized a*s.

Grinding down to the broken foundation.  A settled arc of points.

The birthplace of contempt and hatred.  Searching for what anoints.

For a blink in my time I will find solace, but only to be taken away.

Developing tools to counterpoint the discussions along the way.

But bless me with a friendship of honesty, and you will see a loyalty.

I tend to forget grudges, so I get used continuously.

I blank out between times of transgression, to awake to the next torment.

It serves it's purpose as I don't have to wonder where any of the time went.

So.

Un.

Finished...