I knew a name that blew
Wind so cruel it knew
An answer every night
Sleepless I lay out of sight
Enchanters sang
Each silhouette climbed
So dust stung my eyes
Glistening not a surprise
Drifting words
A lone wolf and my song
And I, dusty evermore.
My notes have all gone to yellow
Ageless they ring mellow
A bangle precedes each thy name
Faint hope but nothing remains
A fool’s enchanted again
And the walls are alive.
Lately I’ve been having existential crisis’.
They’ve been keeping me up
Tangling my tempered mind
With truisms that cannot be unfolded.
I’ve found life to give answers
I’m not prepared to ask,
I’m not ready to ask,
I’m not asking!
But still I ask and ask away,
Leading me to sleepless nights;
Circles of half-truths
And mind-truths and kinda-truths
And not-truths.
Until I am truth understanding
There is no truth at all.
I take long bike rides in straight lines
To avoid circling back upon myself.
I have been thinking I’m not thinking,
I’m not leading,
I’m not excelling.
All I’m doing is pretending
To be deep within my journey,
But my journey’s not a journey!
My sleepless night is real,
And so are the dreams
That speak truths and not-truths.
I’m scared to understand,
Letting ideas ride deep
Into sleepless nights
And I wonder what ifs.
I don’t let wizards
Paint my low brow dark,
I keep satin stains
Along smirk marks of my face.
I crawl into your yellow marks,
Finishing a day old cigarette
That tastes sour
And makes me upset again.
Counterpose my excellence
Awkwardly adjacent
To a sprinkling good luck,
Nickel and dime water fountain.
I’m going back underground.
A hurt from such a rift causes my soul to bleed; bandages cannot repress
Social anxiety, misgivings, and confusion; poor mans shoes
Die with your holy preacher man pointing fingers at the victimized
We are all to blame, says she, but you shall suffer
Rote killed the carpenter, rote riddled the masses
Smite kept the homeless alive fighting keystones and matchbooks
Desire put your holiday panicking over dark and fuming holes
But your money bought you pain that your doctor couldn’t heal
This has shaped your soul into puppets you cannot identify
Sleepless in your figure, shapeless while you work
Amongst your goblets and amulets
Hurt by your call to society you’ve never represented