Two leather-clad, spike-wristed desperadoes walk up to the gate, kick it in, dodge a few flashing light effects, and swiftly slay the dragon that is self-doubt. I am still on this search for meaning, bending words, lines, and catch-phrases at will, in order to express beautifully fragmented thoughts – spray painting them up against the sugar-glass moonlight. There is nothing like the head-rush of hitting the stage and throwing caution to the wind – words flowing out like a freshly slashed jugular vein. This is my morse code – dots, hyphens, and dashes on the page. Or is it dashes to the stage? Another day, another hourglass figure to touch – sands flowing out of it, as she grinds into my broken in soul. I tagged this up for you. I wander, and wonder… Are you out there, and do you have a voice like mine? Intellectual stagnation leads to the quest for adventure. I rip off layers of literature, and sling it across the planet. What else am I gonna do? I’m a kid playing with clay…

– Written by MIKE PHELAN O’TOOLE. Copyright 2011.

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