now that i cannot choose… i choose a choice.
an abbreviated me has long been not enough.
my inner Kafka, a lag of butterfly thoughts.
i seem to drift obedient to the wave
of my honest lust.
but return always, to something
i cannot touch.

I am a cold piece
of me…. and my friends
are not friendly.
eager to **** my want
as I want more
than a lasting oblivion.

they omit my dream.

but i am all the while
some other beautiful
thing.

dying out loud.