Living to get away from living;
to float in the semi-conscious world
of a brain’s private interior
Suffering long enough for a pay-off;
yet not quite enough suffering to reach
for the nearest cliffside
What kind of a life is this?
To take my advice would be madness,
unless you too are insane;
in which case, I say, “Hello stranger.
I know your goddamned heart by heart.
Your spirit feels like a long lost part of me,
and I am talking (again) to the wormhole.
Will you take me somewhere browner,
or will you lull me into an atomized
deconstruction?”
I’m supposed to care;
I no longer do
I exist to decrease the suffering of others,
and wither like a forsaken flower
I was once so certain of the sun’s
rapturous love for me
Now I do but faithlessly pray these nights
won’t always be endless
I saw the monstrous beauty of our local star,
but it only beheld me in forgettable glimpses
So when the blank darkness comes,
I will welcome it with relief
There was never a destination
for this traveler;
she spoke my name as though
it was irritating slang,
and I’m the only one who fought against
that lacking definition