I see,
The breaking thread.
I hear,
The ticking clock.
I know,
The feeling unspun.
I want,
No real heaven,
That picks apart my soul.
I’ve been in this dream state all my life,
Moving from beautiful wasteland to fertile wasteland.
Of all the ruined lessons,
one struck home.
of millions of centuries,
the truth finally etched in bone,
Never again will I take the ****** surgical knife,
Of memory and rhyme,
Of language and thought,
Of love and delusion,
To open up worlds in people,
Just to hold their hand.