Tales of a Lunatic

[Erthona]

Poe, I tried to put this into poetic shape. I'm not trying to say this is how it needs to be, but maybe you will find something of value in it.

Dale
_________________________________________________________
The music playing at Burger King elevates my mood,
then it falls into a well of nostalgia,
laying bare my heart which is tossed
about a tarred street. (There needs to be a simile other than comparing "heart" to "moisture", as moisture is not an object, it is a condition)
Like moisture picking up dirt,
grime, twigs, and bits of leaves
stirred up from last winters thaw.
I own my fear, like owning an ugly dog
that I groom and tend to.

Like a virgin at a bonfire;
awakening to the truth
of her untasted beauty,
I am convinced of my fame. (should "fame" possibly be "infamy"?)
Could I convince you that I am an
innocent victim, when I am the perpetrator?

On the subway platform I hear the beat of Africa.
I feel the deep connection to my heritage.
I define myself:
the manifestation of my internal universe.
I cannot say I approve.