Exhaustion
Runs its course
And settles in
   the crevice of
Intrusion
   marked by
      fading
         words
And darkened thoughts
And dim rejected paths
To startled
Scenes
   of eminence

The spots
Of raw creation
Nibble on the skins
   of brain cells
      warping
         in the candor
Of extremity

Rushed upon the stone
   of forced design the
      wine of cool reward
Lies empty
   on the desk
      of crawling
         visions
Shackled to the 
   the poet's door

(c) 1996 James Oliver Smith, Jr