When the storm sets its sights on me I feel hopeful
Maybe, just maybe I can build and build a way out. . .

Three parts an idiot running blindly
Trying to fill the mystery and fuel the next move,
Harlequiin dancing in a crowd with his own enigmatic
Device to lure, different but effective

Building fustration, can't it always be the calm
Before the storm, the constant building
And the eventual emptiness, never ceases to
Bewilder and makes me want it all again

Never quite satisfied with the ways I travel
The trickster does lay down deep inside
Mixing all the signals, what seems to be
An ecstasy is nothing more than release

Can I keep this confusion building?
A torture I call the norm
Eventually myself will empty
And all across this body the dials will roll back
Allowing it to run a similar ellipse

It all starts with an image, a touch
Then the haunt I'll never get to where my mind is heading
I want to push straight on ahead,
Make myself satisfied, I push to hard
And break on through, all the pleasures spill out
So with aching void I end up at the beginning

The calm before the storm
The emptiness before the burning torrent
The unsatisfied,
Fragmented pleasures do not total to a perfect ending
Why the swirling thoughts bring the expectation I will never know
I will never know how I got here
A rumination on unattainable intangible abstracts
Crippling what once was. . .

-Nicholas