I’d love to stay and chat, but if I don’t tilt these windmills before the high wears off I fear they’ll abscond away with my purpose during the night.  
It’s an illusion for sure, but it’s mine. Crafted out of fear it walks in front of my shadow before every setting sun. A lumbering tangled tragedy.
Suffer me not should you find my sincerity to be askew. Cast your earth upon me and bid me ado. Lest I become that which you loath and thereby myself.
Your coffee grows cold and my mule died last night, again. And yet this morning I’ll ride that steed off to meet the day. The same day from the day before.
Fret not, your confusion is entertained and I The never good enough Knight of a broken table will leave it to the days to come to forget I was here.
I’ve died a thousand times trying to get over the rainbow and unknowingly breached every rule that would have garnered a love to span the stars.
So tired is the day that carries my woes. Endeavoring an idea as foolish as the ones that preceded it. Dogs that come home to die under the porch.
My banner in shreds to whims of a southerly wind. Decorated in celebration to my victorious battles. Thus it is just an old t shirt of a smiley face.
I had to throw you up amongst the celestial backdrop of my dreams so that if I needed you, for once, you’d be there. Asleep behind the wheel of my every thought.