I've lived to tell a tale I don't plan on telling.
I've made a lot of beds and have yet to sleep.

While silence is a key, my doors are swelling.
Without this charge it is obsolete.

When finally my soul's link is belting,
and I can finally play for keeps,
I will look back on these times of 'no telling'
and appreciate the irony.

Meshed into the cosmic fodder.
Torn and strewn; universal lard.
Maybe this is dying...
Oh hi, Moirai!

This pendulating plane,
circumambulating
understanding.

An existential game,
I didn't know how to play.

Went back for round two,
Just to test the subjectivity.
At first I was astounded
By the sheer volume of mystery.

You crushed, you pulled,
You played me for a fool.
All the while, mocking me
Like some bully at school.

Oh hi, Moirai!
No need to hide or disguise.
My eyes are open wide, now.
I'll no longer try to slide out.

Ever since I stepped into this
Buffer between the gross and divine.
Nothing has been the same (lol).
I walk the middle line.

His notion for all this
Commotional,
Sappy, emotional
Dribble and spit,
Bargain-quality ****
Is just catharsis, a
Comical, slightly
Sardonic carnival
Of what it is to be
A man alone, loosely
Wearing his bones with
His heart on his sleeve,
Which is ripped and hanging
From a stick, declaring
His foolish little wish
On which he clings,
Desperately.

It may be fate's cold dish,
Either way, he's sinking