realisation

i realise that i have favoured words i turn to
that are like persistently bad habits
i reach for them time and again
like crutches or a familiar friend
i have to be more conscious when i write
to be original and not repeat
i need to break out of my themes as well
rather than feeding my emotion's need
right now it seems to focus on early concepts of love
of a boy-man struggling to break into adulthood
which stands in stark contrast with
a man-boy trying to regain the wanderlust of youth
compensating for cynicism and the loss of immortality
maybe dipping into the well of past memories
forces me down this narrow path
a laser-fine pinpoint of light illuminating
the what was and the what is
yet my fascination is not quite done because
here in this landfill is a treasure trove
like an archaeologist finding used Durex, not his brother T
so far and yet so near to a breakthrough discovery
glimpses of that primeval version of me
trying extremely hard to articulate
the feelings of a unspoilt heart still pristine
and discovering the pain for the very first time
like the virgin in Madonna's hit so saccharine
but that’s not the thought i want to leave you with
and rather than confront the dreaded final destination
there's so much more to say about my journey's choices
and the crazy adventures in between