when did my life go from
simple pleasures with uncalled for meanings
angst and dread simmering
like a rhubarb reduction
suffocated by the plastic euphemisms
the children of a flat white perception
beautiful girls and beautiful moments
words spilling like coffee stains on pages
secrets not really meant to be uncovered yet they just ebb from a throbbing conscience
when did my life go from this
to a vulture’s disdainful touch
my own aura emulating blankness
no thought and no asphyxiating emotions
eyes vacant of animation but dilated pupils of magnificence
cardiac arrest fueled by the most ragged and raw and remorseless of experiences
whistling wind and tangled hair and looking up into the sky and seeing absolutely no stars, just light pollution, but ******* light pollution is beautiful the city is beautiful
I feel no need anymore to tear my own conscience apart
to make up for the pathetic excuse of an experience that we fabricated for our amateur selves
now I have my experiences. and I experience them
void of guilt and regret and self deprecation
self pity is the most attractive thing I’ve ever experienced
but no longer can I stand
waltzing like the court jester
instead I chose to wander like a lost prince
to each their own.