In a moment of dereliction and total lonliness I’m surrounded by people yet sapped in a holiness, not of spiritual zombies but with an empty heart longing. May I have a partner prior to my fame? Do you think such rhetoric is shame?
Once upon a time I took to pen and paper open my heart and taper the veins of my existence, now however is a screen on which I rap on, thumb touches I tap on.
I’m striving toward more loving, yet my prose seems more like shoving you all away as I’m ever more the stranger who you perceive as danger.
And I can’t help but sense your flaws like a flowing oozing sauce which seeps upon the pages of me and my buddy sages. Though as I grow more wiser, I grow inward like a miser collecting stories which I treasure but spend them at my leisure.
I wish you’re out there, equal, may my chaos be the prequel to a peace of mind we will piece together in our fog we call forever.
Yet I also must accept that no mate may soon collect the love I yearn to share.
It’s not fair.