Spark of the Inner Soul
By Peter Scott
A hard day passes
My limbs are quaking
As dusk rolls on
Fire begins to burn strong
Welling and pooling
From an unknown recess
Quiet calm
To lust and temptation
Leg aching
Torn too numerous for counting
Throbbing denial
Screaming for defeat
The words fall deaf
Darkness my blind
A spark explodes
Tears rationality
Unleashing force
Spraining any sense of pain
Content in its lame acceptance
I waltz out the door
Crunching bone to brittle bone
Walk
Surge
Move
Electric heat
Pulsing from a vendetta
Leaving its remnants on the earth
Already traveled
Stepping onward
Brow furrowed
Then wiped of remark
Up comes loss and numbness
The more sweeter jogging along
Transversing the vengeful path
Stone of hate
Ahead the great fortress looms
Strength influxing
Blood outpouring
Raising my fist to the door
Mighty entrance guard
Nothing under unstoppable force
I forget the mark left
On cold steel once a wall of defense
Past the muck
Momentarily standing
Now on the floor
Knuckles crimson
Dark though less dense than my body
The surge continues
And I am abused
Told I can't go on
Am destined for Hell
!Damn them
Ribs exposed
Walking
Crashing
Losing steam
Abdicating a measure of righteousness
Lips puckered
Through no fault of my own
Squeezing, sending my message loudly
...Almost there...
Few inches to climb
Then lost.
