of ships & apocalyptic times Noir Vampires we are

I find I get lost in a room within. 

    I do not know for how long it seems I have been wandering; like a droughted sponge that is never past parched no matter if it swims under a waterfall 

  it still comes up thirsty ….this need 

is

        to wish to wash clear; tabula rosa ….power wash away all nebulous dust and mist then wind swept off all dew

    It would not be right to walk into some new ….scene ….where all previous ones were all the mistakes —to not at first really clear out all the bugs squashed dead in the corner crevices where thoughts decay. 

Days to myself in private solitude and keep counsel only to myself 

Do I trust myself …. I must prove that I can ….i find —like going down allegorical corridors and opening up doors; the catacombs ….the dungeons of thoughts; Jörn’s dungeon ….it is a good place to go. It is fail proof. No one can get in. This is where I go. A room in my mind. 

Before I want to trust anyone or believe the Folkmoot story, I need to wrap within this cocoon built within of iron stronger than anything in the universe. Like a sleeping vampire. To go within a crypt ….only once there through scrying dialogues which deliver me to a cleared path ….

can I face either the revival venom of a vampire’s breath or the serenity of being reconciled to the devoutness of my personal truths and alas know it is more than any material wealth 

I get lost here in this room with my back turned away from the monitors 

Do I think of life ? life’s meaning ….. time ….wasted time; years wasted ….but they never are really wasted —that is the riddle ….

I do not wish to step out there from my temple until I appreciate every scab and scar and also too, every happy and quiet personal moment ….when I forgot to feel guilty for being lazy….when the automatic scheduled demands are gone —there….her; that one….that is ….the one to step out again for nothing less than my own long lost Andreas and Hanna from my long lost life 

I stay in the dungeons a long while to think, far from the madness of this crowded world 

I don’t choose to let down the portcullis and consider a walk through the catacombs humming Jim Morrison’s Soft Parade but thinking of his Crystal Ship

https://youtu.be/4YWPhmduSDQ?is=6nl5xrTMND9OHw6w