As I smoke on more,
As the moon rose, a thought arose in me,
Of what one wants an’ how to get it.

This life pondered through a yellowing ****,
Of a familial failure – this nervous trait,
Left to consider a stinging punch line,
Misuse of sincerity for the ease of hate,
Stuttered confidence in displaced harmony,
In time, smoking this from that an’ those,
Essentially to have an essence of an answer,
Rising from rambling, vacant empty prose.

As I decide,
As decisions go, I must resolve for me,
An’ find out where and when to get it.

These ‘internalisations’ of thought,
Torrentially pouring mind an’ heart,
Where to start - for pain; how to end,
Over-exposed, drifting in the known,
So I drag on another – four minutes lost,
Beguiled by the chokingly humid question,
Fooled I am, laid bare an’ decidedly unaware,
To lucid memory an’ casual resurrection.

As I stand,
As the truth riddles, the fear it strikes in me,
I know not what to get or how to get it.

I know,
Now.