restarting, reimagining, reimaging, reacting, revolting

the myriad ways we get there

and the lost loneliness between the corners

with subtle, weak determination

that a strong will, will never know

give me a tired dream

that fades, dies, and haunts me

a dream I can hardly see, but lingers there

like a dormant, expressionless, phantom

not flesh and blood

but a manifestation of revolt

time kills most things

we get tired of them


“strike fast,” is the motto of the world

strength, is getting there first

I tried those things; they didn’t work

My endurance, is a weak sluggish endurance

countering time to laugh

it’s not human, for many years

a dormant, expressionless, invisible


dreaming for decades

until my life is alive

a beautiful dream.


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