Pointless existence
caught some where between
wanting to be
and ceasing to exist.

Each day seems more like
An imagining.
Who am i,
but these the thoughts
And restless energy.

Days when I am tired
Surrendering to death
So sleep indefinite.

I would come back better
Cleaner than before.
Be a new imagining

Yet who am i,
These thoughts,
This restless energy.

I expend at the plight of my desire
Edging toward meaningful attatchments.  
And this is what I make.
Caught in between
Pointlessness
And purpose.

Yet who am I
These thoughts
Or this restless energy.

I wish the flavor
from the taste
of your mouth
could last longer than our distance
and grow stronger with more resistance to time
long enough for my senses to sense your fragrances' scent
within reach of your presence
and be present enchanted by the grace of your essence