“Sold of the Spirit” is about the child I always will, and will forever be, even as I grow old. It was originally titled “The Stoned Immaculate” – as I was super high on creativity back in November 2012.
Suddenly felt so cold
I never felt less bold
Can no longer read
Decipher the letters
Because of the creased fold
No longer accepting
“Under consid’ration”
No more inspiration
From satellite stations
No longer consid’ring
All the plights of nations
Nor tales of conspiring
Life should be simpler now
Since I sold my soul, I’m
In between dimensions
Slip’d into afterlife
And incoherent dreams
To never again wake
Once considered useful
This unfavor’ble mind
Thinks up a new fable
Somewhat like a child
Plays below a table
With fantasies wild
Grow older I will not
As I play no longer
But as my foolish tales
Gain unfavor’ble labels
And my soul drains weaker
My pen grows mightier
6-13-2018
A really interesting read. Some wonderful imagery.
Thanks! I appreciate it <3
I really like this. I felt floaty in a sort of way.. As though earthly disappointments cannot kill the spirit or its creativity; one just simply floats away from it because it can’t be damaged in the sphere it belongs to. Just my little feeling reading it.