A Thought Against Thoughts

Seldom a drought does not drape the mind, A mind now devoid of eflowquent nectar. A nudge to the present, that's case in point, Will the heavens not indulge me with fruitful weather?

Gravity of intention, of extraterrestrial pressure, Is a mournful anvil to my glass frame, Put lightly however, must I not surrender, Must I not depart from the sacred sane.

Why must I reside within my mind, Let consciousness indulge while I tear, In truth a sinister saboteur, Must you strip me off my flair.

A fool conceals his true nature Against will? Against volatility? A risk must not promise the sublime, But its nature will never be against you, Adversity? Hard work. Time. Real breed real, and fake bleed through.

Mind, a chaos on canvas, amusingly plain, A barren dessert is but full with grain. I see things through, I sense things plain, Never but lies and ruse from heart's true bane.

A thought against thoughts and yet my thoughts abuse, Oh far-reaching lands, how can I bleed true?