I miss my days,
And the nights in between.
To be a stranger,
is something today,
I dismiss of me.
I am so public,
But always in hiding so well.
To be the epic I desire,
Is a coherent thought I don’t consume.
I feel the heartache of a love unquoted.
I am the tale of a desperate spirit,
That watches the stories unbounded.
A fox in the Aesop that only shows fear in the face of some animal tale,
To my story the parable is so unclear.
I feel I can’t be what the day desires,
To my own tale and my own future I paddle.
In this endless ocean of subliminal content I swim, as a lonely dissenter,
The anarchist I am is more than a statement.
Dissolution is my gift,
And I hope it spreads to you.
There is a truth I see thru the eyes I have been given to perceive,
Not so gifted, but torched with my believes.
I am just walking the endless pier of truth,
And all the while,
I envelope the lost dream,
That somehow explains is all to you.