Johnson says his is...

Johnson called it an expedition
a pathway to perfection
a cleansing claustrophobic
life absorbing self cathartic
introduction to a container containing
anger and self destruction.
I call it a trip into the mind of ridicule
and sarcasm, an entity of a city
skyline with smoke billowing
and innuendo twisting and spilling
contrite only for itself on days
it chooses and chews and regurgitates.
You may call it whatever you desire
on the weekends or an evening
with the ones that you love
or the dreams of the ones that you hate
its an internal cerebral debate
Johnson and I and you
are not even sure of what It is
but its there, isn't it
inside of us
the middle, the hole,
the something that's missing
Its indescribable
isn't it?