Sunday, May 24, 2015

Feel it

I
Am the excess of things
Uncontrollable
Like the moon rising and sun setting
Fatal churning of my mind's expectations
Perfection: the rancid deadly poison
Kills
my
heart
With weight that crushes and grinds my bones
to dust
I sprinkle my faults
Beautiful me that is lost.
My sorrow wades, happiness ready to sparkle
Mixing
Like thick oil paints

As the road twists and winds, she thinks to herself she sees it straight.
Ignorant of the rock before her,
so she stumbles
Eyes swollen shut

Now
I
roam
Not seeing the end, which evades me
Life cannot be measured by a steady increase,
But by curves.
I love,
that's all that matters.

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