What lurks inside this book of secrets?
A juicy tale waiting to be exposed?
A lie that finds justice?
A simple story with a complex ending?
A poem with a theme to which no one comprehends?

No one, except the narrator behind the first person speaker,
The Creator,
The mastermind behind all that follows,
Me...him...or her...who knows?
A book which holds the mysteries of my deepest ink,
A notepad with my scribbles and scrabbles written with a blank pen,
Key words and phrases that could be polar opposite of what is actuality,
Processed under a microscope of human mind and matter,

Welcome to my world,
My realm,
Where I make the rules and you play actor to attempt the follow,
A curiousity that will always force a pondering upon your solidified wonders,
A future of revealing knowledge,
A pocket watch spinning in opposite directions,

My words cannot be learned or taught,
They play with the mind and bombard every intricate thought bubble,
Digging deeper to find meaning in the mine of a premeditated stanza,

Is it a happy ending?
Is it a truent fib?
Is it a creative mixture of stories and lines?
Or would you call it a poem?
That is the bone destined to be buried indefinitely, waiting for the dog,

I chizel in this binded slate to uncover the underground,
I believe these silent dialogues are for you, to drive you crazy to unravel,
The anticipation of tearing off the wrapper to discover the gift,
It is brain boggling,
Thoughts twisting like twine around the neck,
This containment is insanity,

So you think you know my words, do you?
You can't see the dimensions existing in this plane,
This ink, this graphite, this wonder,
These perplexing strands of ideas mean nothing to you, but they feed,
I think for thought and write to feel right,
I make to believe and believe to make,

This notebook is red,
A color blended with blood and pain,
The color that stains forever,
A color with such anger to its personality,
I'm ill-tempered by the ignorant; the ignorance,
A few lines remaining and still so much left to fight for,
A never ending dotted line that trails a crescendo for all of eternity,

This poem lives for the stranger whom uncovers the mystery; a Hardy Boy,
The one whom I undoubtedly love,
The one whom comprehends my inner struggle and becomes ally to my thoughts,
She would be my dictionary,
I would be her words,
She is my pages,
I am her binding,

The reason these ideas grow from this stem through the flow of my arm,
Along my fingers,
Into my utensil,
And onto the absent surface,
The dull end of this pencil knows all,
Together, we write this novel of uncertainty,
Bleed my thoughts,
But you still will not reveal the master plan behind my words,
For this color stains and ruptures the soul,

I am crazy,
Insane in the brain,
******,
But my desires?
Poetic,
Ingenious,
Romantic,
Realistically bleeding,
As the stranger, you narrow your focus on this lightbulb like a fly on the wall,
Explore the mind,
Find what is so secretly kept safe,
But remember,
My thoughts...
They stain.

I float in the center of confusion and paranoia,
These days, all I can do is ponder in traps of thought,
These thoughts race and beat me to the finishing ribbon,
I inhale with a treacherous risk of it being my last,
I must part from you,
You hold dear to my heart, but my heart can't succumb to your cancer,
It's killing me inside to know you're always around,
Just give me a few days with my feet on the ground,
Soon, we will fly high together again,
But today, I must knot this leash to the leveled Earth,
It's just not the same anymore,
I can't be alone with your envious smile,
You take me to places I do not wish to follow,
My hopes and dreams are fading away with your evaporating smoke,
You tell me to sore through the clouds, but I stay grounded to this planet by my morals,
What used to feel right, now feels so wrong,
Down seems to be up and life is surely turning over,
You're pulling me into the surface like a gel conforming to its surrounding plane,
It is my fault for loosening the grip,
You're gone now,
I have given up on you,
I've left town, but I'll return when it is convinient,
Just keep flying high like you do and I will meet you at the podium,
This is a race,
But, last place finishes first,
Be safe,
Be smart,
Don't fly too high...