i've got the dark side of the moon
On its back, crescent-cut, undereye.
A sign of my exhaustion,
Which i use to fuel my rise.
Everything below but bare remembrance,
Like my fridge, running empty.
Or so i surmise.
Guess i'll fill it or guess I'll die.
This approach? Unsustainable.
i'm ragged, climbing through life,
The ***** only slows, steepening,
i Think it's about time I fly.