you look woebegone
in your forlorn effort to
escape sullen glum

I sit against the boulder
Listening to the thuds and barks off my shoulder

As I get older
Life does not make me any bolder

It is only getting colder
Losing the ones around once they get closer

A dream
or a hallucinated
fantasy
or an illusion
of a fully theorized
delusional
hypothetical
visionary
abstract
idealized
conception of
all love should be like
in the streams of my
unconscious
consciousness
is
you

Beneath my skin and skull
Hidden smiles and lies,
Buried hopes and despairs.
I wander among the wrecks
and ruins of the war zone,
Posing for a photo with a few
friends-
And a couple of others who
have been here since the
beginning.

Beneath the surface of the
Earth is a perfect place to
restart.
Death is peaceful, quiet.
Perhaps, the best way to live.