Our thoughts are our servants.

They form and shape our world.

Holding the power,

To make it shine,

Like an iridescent pearl.

Or turn into a heavy smog;

that twists and twirls.

It is important to recognize,

That our thoughts hold power.

Yet perhaps of more import,

To not let them become our masters.

For if we do, we create disaster.

Our world spinning into chaos faster.

And that which has taken over, erupts into laughter.

And smears blood on the plaster,

Of walls created as our blindfold.

Our thoughts corrupted,

Because we have allowed them to,

Become our masters.

Thoughts of insignificance,

moving in circular motion.

By cyclical design.

A pumping negativity,

Feeding a machine,

That keeps moving; regenerating itself eternally.

Planning to never die.

Leeching our essence,

Formulating a plot,

To fabricate its own essence.

Until our two existences are severed.

This entity lives on our misery,

Cyphoning our energy.

Not incubus nor succubus;

An androgynous vampire,

who becomes more powerful,

as we become its servant:

Afraid to exercise our own power.

This entity is a dictator,

existing as blasphemy.

That is,

Until we pull its plug.

And re-direct our mastery.

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Thank you for your attention.

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