How foolishly fickle,
I fall as when I was little,
In and out of transitioning crushes,
And when I come to wonder why, Eros blushes,
Time pushes through me egging me onto further failure and upset,
For every lasting moment of sincere joy there are a thousand to regret,
And yet still to the slaughter house I take my step,
No matter the pierce of pain or splatter of tears wept,
Crimson dreams haunt my footfalls,
Hiding from them in the isolation of four walls,
To breach my inner sanctum is great action,
My existence constantly undergoing rarefaction,
Hinged by thoughts and daydreams I’m unhinged by reality,
And the glimpses in between at the insane and preposterous somehow hold my sanity,
My mind aches with too much company at times,
But my heart breaks from the loneliness of my mind,
I am trapped between these parallels that fixate on why I’m here,
But with the loss of the loose grip I hold I so fear I’ll disappear
Into nothing, the abyssal void of life beyond life,
And the reasons for me to join them for me at least seem so rife,
So now I sit, play a show of my invention on my wit, show the drink where it was that I was bit,
And like a puzzle piece that nobody mentioned with no dimension try to find somewhere that I fit.