Urges

My spoken word
Full of token verbs
And broken terms
Beautifully entrap all that’s within
From the ripe ole age of ten
I’ve envisioned a vision so deeply rooted in love.
I protected the ideals of romanticized views
Which now gives me the blues
Because I bore it in my mind my roots so fulfilling
Without them I’d surely lose a grip
I’d sip, slowly from the nectar of fire water
Known as the fire starter
Until my stomach spewed the heat of indiscretion
Reached my mouth, my actions
No circumvention
I folly from time to time, slowly bred on occasion
Spawn in a mind slowly salting my urges
To purge my faulty thoughts
Born to action.
Splurging your soul, soon grows old
Til you’re empty, fill an earthly need
A dead sown seed.
Take heed.