here I sit, as I have
countless times, yeah

with liquid bread
and my thoughts
for my self

I peered into my empty bottle
realizing I spent hours
admiring a craft
mostly flawed
but revered by many

as perfection creeps
cloaked she already knows
she is unreachable and lonely

I bet God feels the same way

as I uncap another vessel
I realize that it is twenty four past two
so I sketch a few moments
but a few moments now
permanent on my sketch book

time I won't get back
and I can see it
it's ink, a doodle
on a worthless piece of paper

I stare at my text
this and these are moments
I wont get back

so much for perfection.

I hope God isnt as lonely
because it's sad
even with a all these humans
loneliness finds a way
always disguised
unflawed