formed crystalline on a sugar tongue

i think, "isn't this the height of art?"
to create, to participate, to explore
so what about fame and glory
and a million fucking emails from people
i will never have the adequate time to reply to
ego ego ego go go go
stop it, hungry beast inside
i wrestle with the point of what i do
i'm an attention-seeking missle
fired blindly into enemy territory
hoping i strike gold
strike a beating heart
strike a worshiping musician
strike a beautiful girl amazed
by me me me me mmmmmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
am i really that plain?
that senseless?
that hungry?
that obvious?
i think too much
i go over and over and over
in my mind
desire
fire
attaire
quagmire
"i have the power of spirit
but i'm lacking in vision"
she and i sing together
and is that true?
or just more lamentations
from an over-active mind
mindstorm
no form
the norm
alone
feasting on fantom fuel
fantom designer fashion draped deliciously
over the perfect unattainability
girls like...fuck it...
girls like you
girls like all girls
most girls
those girls
pretty girls
flirtatious girls
smart girls
smiling girls
writing a feast of beauty with a few simple words
formed crystalline on a sugar tongue
and the eyes have it
glistening and inviting
like the clouds
carry my dreams away until there is no more pain
and the guitar sits quietly
waiting again the stroke
the caress
crying out in taut precision
in tune with the out-of-tune
screaming in quiet pleasure
as my fierceness finds a buffer
and emits tenderly into the midnight air of my minds exhalations
and i fall in love all over again
with the process
with myself
with the muses
with the holy
with what i can grasp but only for a little while
each song is a small, simple, necessary step
towards my eventual meeting with my bliss
the ideal of nirvana
as near as I can describe it
transcribe it
onto and into
this world
and with the dawn
these glimpses into some shining heaven
fade into the morning sun
the world welcomes the day
and you and i
we weep that the night is over
our blessed shroud
our comforting blanket
our velvet curtain
it is in the night that we find
that we approach
that we are most near
that which we hold dear
whether we can give it a name
that evening
or not
reaching out for a hand
when the air has grown small fingers
i understand
blessing and curse and all that jive
it's a thrill to be alive
it's a hell to be alive
but the harbor is calm this evening
write to me of moonlight reflections on water
starlight and saline and sanity
forgetting for a moment
the horrors of vacuum
lost out to deep sea
for tonight we are berthed
the crew has gone to shore
to drink and gather supplies
we stand at the rail
the sails silently ruffle in the cool breeze
the ship sways with gentle womb-like motion
and we are home
in the arms of a mother
sing not of mountains brewing with magma tonight
that slope is far over the horizon
scream not of seers and palms
and ethereal names hanging in the air like smoke
this is no joke
this is the first toke
this is the wheel missing a spoke
this is the stage
see how we emote
all I can offer are ephemeral sounds
and the synaptic sympathy of my mind
but whatever it is that you can find
i gladly give
it is my honor
it is my fuel
it is catharsis
it is cruel
destinations pull like black-hole gravity
enjoy the journey
all of our friends advise
and we nod "yes, of course, you are right"
and then the dawn comes
and the circle starts anew