From the Top

The name is MICK. It stands for 'who's my Master? Overriding Insecurities. Past Calamities and the blade of Kindness.' These are the words from the head, as it hunts the broken and bloody frame. This is the story of them. One person, many fractions. You decide one or many. While I will simply call it as it is-
MICK, sits while the others run. The joy in their eyes as another journey has begun. Glancing to the West with slits. MICK forcibly swallows its yesterdays. You see when Satan comes, He doesn't simply leave...and you just kiss the lips of lack of better words: shit. MICK knew the rolls and the throws. Up upon a stage it sang songs that lock up the tongue, clench the teeth, brake children's following feet....
Clutches lay to your left, MICK. Why won't you pick them up? "Because they've held me up." you've said. "MICK, what is that noise from your chest?" "Do you dare to try and listen? When you have been so willing to throw away your breath, you bring execution to many. My heart wasn't made for this, but it looked like the wild so I took my expedition. Through the holes of iron-clads, I stopped the progress... and yet, so much more."
The day always holds unbroken promises, even when the sun is captivated by the clouds. MICK, you sit still as if your still held. MICK, don't believe in empty words...those lies....those hurdles.
"Maybe I can face this alone and alone I will be fine. Fine comes to calm the nerves, like Hemlock that shut the mouths of the great philosophers. Is this who I am? In this place, in this green grass I sit."
"But LOOK LOOK, not only feel. Death is not underneath you nor beside you. GET UP! For rest comes in an action unknown to man. There is MORE to come, MORE to become!"
You, MICK...to you I reach, I stretch, I descend.
I remember, once upon a time in the middle of the night your great Spirit-it whispered in this crevasse...it said a name. I remember, I remember once upon a time a bright light invaded my invasive dreams and night tares.
In front of the door you've boarded it up with dressers and nightstands.
MICK,
      That is not your name although it may be your game.
         Let's get this right before you lift those wobbling hands.
        Your name is .......
         When have you ever had the right to declare exactly?
"You lift and turn my face heaven-ward. Am I really bought? Everything I thought...they now roll down to my toes like a bullet."
MICK
Masterpiece
In My Hands
Cared for
Kept forever