The hollow comfort is your ideal state.
When nothing’s lacking or wholly great.
You’re too unhappy to fall behind,
and too content to change.
The small pleasures are the world,
and the societal ‘leisures’ are no longer your mask.

The ecstasy is the excitement. The looming
joy, the ideal and the desired are all it takes to tip you.
It’s a rare and tainted feeling,
where your mind is in the warm clouds, and your feet
are reluctantly rooted to the cold concrete.
It’s easy for the dream to melt into ash and dust,

and once this goes amiss,
you plummet into the gaping abyss,
and the things you cared about before
are already nothing because you’ve tasted much more.
You can’t even see the precipice from amongst the rocks.
A shattered statute shadow. What were you like before?

You can chase it back and do it again.
You know you can climb.
You know it.