Cutting Cords

Every now and then when I'm at the edge,

when I can resurface, I survive a complete 

drown. Drowning in a sea. A sea swarming

with lustful scenes, beautiful scenes, and 

chaotic scenes.

I found myself so far in this seductive tempest.
Where the rhythm was new, the twirls were fun, 

the violence was entertaining. But my hunger was 

a nagging wound, like a homeless beggar.

I didn't recognize how far I went until
I couldn't function. Until my wound didn't 

heal, until my dancing with the wind 

caused my motherboard to fizz. 

In my anguish that the water didn't match

the sky, my guides got me up and reminded 

me how I was caught in his web of thoughts. 

And how a cable of cords from him to

me was created, and was fed through our 

common adventures. 

So innocent they started yet subtly how perverted

they evolved to, with wisdom hung behind every

dead end. 

Now the cords have dropped. Golden sails has

gone up. And now the constant become voluntary. 

Chaos become calm. And I knew grace gave me choice
to drown or float. To be stuck or to be divine. 

The steering wheel became once more mine.