and the simple fact is

my

passion

is

lacking

the

gold standard
backing
meaning
there is no
meaning
just
acting
no understanding
only
time passing

and

dying
seems to me
the only natural reaction.

wrinkles sprinkle
my
canvas
abused by
unsteady
hands
footprints
forgotten
in
the
sands
of
a
land
in which i've
been exiled
and deserted

i no longer focus

on if
i
deserve this

i

focus

on the
wording
of the
gifts/curses

the fine print of
lovers and murderers

and how absurd it is
to
f
u
r
t
h
e
r

this

the ditch digging
of relativity

is the trench that protects us actually a grave?

are we slaves to civility?

i
want
i
want
i
fucking
WANT

a free lesson in humility

i want
to be needed
and i need
for you to
feel me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

when whodini made friends it was well spoken.