I was living on borrowed time
But now I know, I’ll find my own
This felt like an unknown building
But now I know, this is my home
I wanted every answer to come
But now I know, to give it time
I used to feel an ounce of guilt
But now I know, it’s just my mind

I’m in the middle
But that is a good thing
It all feels simple
What any day can bring
I’m in the middle
Where I’m meant to be
I’m here for a while
I’ve got a life to see

I dove for affection and attention
I was a small piece of your life
Now I feed on my own acceptance
Where feeling peace brings the light
I’m not in heaven, oh no not yet
But I’ve run past the worst of my regret
I used to think this period was the answer
But I’m an afternoon before sunset

I find the allure of burgundy hues,
          not one for the corpse of grapes,

                                                              being  

squeezed of every essence of life...

But the allure haemorrhaging forth..

I could be buried within this collage of
                                                      elegance.
­
And when I dig myself from it,
                      
I would  paint,
  
                                seeing  a picture of vigour.



Not the outline that others see ,
                                                when
                its chalk lined on the canvass.

Its not deceased,

                           this moment has only just breathed.

Visual delusions:

Scrutinizing the acuity of
            what is visualized.
But sight is only validated
by the morality glazed over.
Until narratives are edited
to mimic a reality of self delusion.

Oral formalization

Dictation versed within syllable
            delusions, never sounding
the reflection of thought to breath.
But sour exhalation collects on
vacant windows, spelling other
          than what is breathed outwards.

Auditory silence

Auditions drummed within,
echoing on shallow walls,
           nothing wrote within
A tirade of failures woven with
three perceptions. Collective ignorance.