I’m Tired.

Milky way ideals, they shine gloriously –
glorious and untouchable in the distance
My heart, it breaks as I see my piteous common sense, fall through the cracks of

-easy mediocracy
A mask worn to shield far to many from their own terrifying brilliance.

I am no grandesque creature, I am but a fleshy carapace, a chassis made of
stories and stardust
My curse? Observation, vision, prose, and
foolish vehement love.

I am art, I am lost, I am everything and nothing
just like you
This curse, is my gift to you. My life is my gift, and I will continue it’s exertion
deep in the the depths of my anguish, my joy, my loneliness.
This is my vow to you.

I pour myself into life,
like a fine dry wine I deny no theatrics
There is courage in my step, and apprehension in my touch
I deny no conundrum, no condesention through action
I have always been the proverbial rubixcube
A paradoxical Anachronism that refuses just to wait and watch anymore
Time is only a concept we created as fatherless children

My astral eyes, my tongue and mind
they toss and thrash; wild like an animal;
I need to anchor, I need rooting or else I float away in tangent
counting the infinite futures
My words lost in the ether, too clever and slippery for even me to contain their merit
Tethered to this world by a single red thread.

Woven with care by the grey ladies aching finger tips
My heart it shatters, again when I fail you.
as I do over and over; it is never enough.
Because wither you do, and I am no better
than the virus at your teet.

But yet I taste and savour then release my sorrow.
dust off my ego and try again

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