Hanging heavy and low, but still bitter. Not yet ready to plummet to the earth. These weights tug at my branches I must prepare, for all these unborn dreams, wanting to live, to spread their own seeds.
A cup of coffee, gravity a morning yawn. Making busy work I tried a passion or two. They yielded a small harvest, not enough to survive the winter.
And winter is here, reaching far inside the reserves, testing out how brutally it can ravage before collapse. Lost in the blizzard, I stumble. Your dreams call to me, a light leading me home. If I can't find my own, I'll follow yours, we'll make it through this storm.
My mind whirls in never-ending revolutions Searching for something to put into a physical form But to no avail. A deep maelstrom, ******* in, but never putting out. Seeking to manifest, yet without means or material to do so. I wonder stuck aloft inside my own brain. How. How do I do this, I think, brooding over my own thoughts. Sentence after sentence and nothing appears. A terrible curse entrenched in my head And benumbing my very process of thought. The Energy of a supernova spewing out an inordinate amount. I need to transform it, Put it into production, Set it to work so I don't perish along With my own shortcomings and flaws. Still, no matter how hard I stress my mind, I’m left with nothing. A veritable nothing. What am I to do What do I do-
once upon a time you were the moon to my stars which is to say, you didn't know how to shine without dimming me in the process
and yes, you sat me in your lap to feed me off your fork but then, you always had a way of presenting scraps as a reward
and presentation is everything, right? no, you never truly left me bleeding instead, my heart and mind were carefully extrapolated blended together until they looked like the color of your eyes, and gently poured back in place
how do you know which pieces go where? how can I know without you?