The strange, the contradictory
the fault is where my soul lies.
☆
There is a fine, blurry line
covered wholly in dust
between the bright of my mind
and my body’s worn-down rust
☆
There is no better way
to spend my fickle time
than learning, and sleeping,
and covered in grime
☆
There is a voice who whispers
in the dark, sunlit night
that I’ve done all I can do
and that none of me is right
☆
And when I soak, I decay
but when I rest, I stir
so when I smile, it’s pure
for when I’m here, I’m away
☆
In breath, death, and life I whine,
Am I all who came before
I am empty, and busy, and warm as the sun
Out cold on the kitchen’s dirty floor
☆
Folk tell me, “Come off your high horse,”
but no, of those I’ve got a fear.
No heights, no frights, for sure no hooves
I look torture in the eyes and sneer
☆
I am lazy, I am hazy, I am shining, I am
a figment to merely exist,
in shadow, in light, reflect, I’m translucent
to be, or not, is a choice I must resist
