In through your nose. Out of your mouth

When I'm all alone with the howls of winter winds, and the mockery of a ticking clock...
Lost in all thought process, and beginning to jot
Whatever comes, and goes with the flow
To gain clarity on things I'm still not meant to know
My approach completely juxtaposed
Endless metaphors, and similies doesn't quite do justice
Although this pen, and pad are the only utensild entrusted with...
The task of letting you see, or perhaps perceive
A rare blimpse into the humble, or pretentious aspects of me
Far from complex, or unfathomable
Radically rationnal, and rash with an angle of attack
I'm not going to look back
Seemingly at it again, full swing
Too many words marching endlessly
Waiting for my command
I'm at the helm of it all
Creators hands ideled for a lapse of time
All hope was lost on this gift of mine
Wide awake with a relentless pace, and so much to say
Silent, empty blank page
I feel it coming back to life