people speak to hear themselves think,
there are no more conversations,
no more characters to play
I am an actor wearing out my grief
between the lines that barricades fatigue,
I cannot be tired if I wish to produce,
such is the waking nightmare of grief,
which renders feeling a commodity, a production
profitable in utility, as if “use” ever was real
with my ancestors as guardian angels, I am guaranteed to fall
into addiction, whether it be coffee and its ability to temporarily
halt grief, or when it’s midday and life wanes as if it were framed,
As if empowerment of the businesses through the destruction of my body
justifies the tears forming the empty warzones of childhood memory,
My writing is power and the corruption of
inner-peace, invaluable until the end,
indivisible until I’m bleeding out, begging for mercy
My tears, damp with grief, can finally crash
into the earth
Another labor of love gone unpaid
Aug 9, 2023
Aug 9, 2023 at 8:59 PM UTC
people speak to hear themselves think,
there are no more conversations,
no more characters to play
I am an actor wearing out my grief
between the lines that barricades fatigue,
I cannot be tired if I wish to produce,
such is the waking nightmare of grief,
which renders feeling a commodity, a production
profitable in utility, as if “use” ever was real
with my ancestors as guardian angels, I am guaranteed to fall
into addiction, whether it be coffee and its ability to temporarily
halt grief, or when it’s midday and life wanes as if it were framed,
As if empowerment of the businesses through the destruction of my body
justifies the tears forming the empty warzones of childhood memory,
My writing is power and the corruption of
inner-peace, invaluable until the end,
indivisible until I’m bleeding out, begging for mercy
My tears, damp with grief, can finally crash
into the earth
Another labor of love gone unpaid
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