I am not
That person
You fantasize me
To be.

And,
It always happens
That one day-
I fall out of
The clear blue.

Right
Into left
Field.

My story
Is kinda pathetic.

I'm just some
Loser
From some
Bumfuck
Nowhere.

I love poetry
Though,
I cope with it.

I have
long before
You knew of me.

It's always depressing and
Dark.

I sir,
Am,
Depressing'n
Dark.

I long for
The Winter Solstice-
Where around here,
There's eighteen hours
Of night.

Only to be ruined,
By morning's dawning
Light.

What you find-
Beautiful-
I find
Derivative
And easy.

No one did anything
Great,
Praising the sun-
And,
Beauty.

I only love things,
When your things,
Recede
Into my quiet moments,
Without you.

I am not
Agreeable.

I am not
Friendly.

I am a
*******
*****.

I never wonder
About other people
Any more.

It's all a fantasy,
A maladaptive coping mechanism,
And the you
I make in my head
Is more interesting,
Than who you are.

So,
I stopped,
Getting interested
In other humans
Because of a pretty
Face.

You're all so
Mundane,
So,
Basic.

Someone else-
Is always,
A,
Disappointment.

And,
I'd rather be
Alone,
Free,
With my time.

The venom
Of
Scorpion,
Pierces through
My flesh
And,
Stings.

I am compelled
To
Dance in a mad
Scramble,
As the poison.

Takes hold.

My ego is about
To die.

Tripping on some divine
Archetype,
Of change-
Transformation,
Tinged with the death
Of self.