Austin and I
Move at different speeds.

The fatal race of life we each compete
at a pace unique to ourselves.
I find myself disoriented all the time,
exiting delirium, now on a regular basis...
Each time
requiring
A reorientation
Without which myself is lost.
When each reorientation
Is less accurate than before,
it all becomes inevitablly  lost.

That initial destination I may never know.

Through the haze In my mind
Waves Austin
And in a heartbreaking protest.
Waits Austin.
in a Tribute to nostalgia-
it's Austin-
And in an intersectionally unique pain  we are connected. There, he stays.
And as I slowly, But surely,
Continue my own race-
I glance back, constantly, and his hand still waves me on-
the gift of direction..
.
Now as I lay here
Before I can rise
I force myself to record it
for a better me;
that

Austin and I-
Move at different speeds.