Ode to Drive (poem)

Heartbreak’s not unique, but what of drive?
Childhood dreams to float in space – astronaut
Now contorted – they themselves deprived,
Stuck in an office, creativity nought.
Not drawing attention for criticism,
Just more determined to never succumb.
Find me concentrating or find me dead --
All else is a prison.
My upbringing not as tough as some,
But that doesn’t stop red being red.

Moderate English lifestyle, but average
Was a curse thrown off – I can never stop
Nothing matters with an empty page.
Keep your eyes peeled – if I’m not at the top
Then ev’ry sacrifice pointless! Loveless,
Throbbing libido couldn’t hold me back,
Nor could the threats of infinite violence.
With bare hands I’m gloveless,
No arrogance, I just want to run the track --
If I’m not racing, I’m dead in silence.

Modern music’s bass, historical taste:
When I’m dead a whole genre falls with me --
Lure of classics, and of new: since when was chaste
Unfashionable? The minority.
I can’t identify with hasty nights,
Drunken antics spur on more reflection.
Some days’ confusion trickier than
Avoiding endless fights.
Ev’ry day under new inspection,
All I want is to my future plan.

When I write a line and it’s staccato,
Punishment ensues, it’s mental torture;
Yet you know I wouldn’t change that, though.
It’s not a mistake, I need no suture:
The pleasure gained from condensing my thought
Overwhelms all; a lightning bolt of meaning.
That’s not to say that I’m never mistaken:
Another wound I sport,
During this time, you may catch me cleaning:
A better man will I awaken.