Expression I have long considered mortal and short-lived.
I have craved withdrawal from myself as much as
I have struggled to contract my wants.
Now, I demand the pictures that frame me small.
I draw from the imagination that forces me to see the truth.
Pure everything till my ends allow.
I choose to complete the circle.
Not because I’m alone, angry, or powerless.
Because the things that once existed no longer fit to make me brave.
It is the beginning of the end of my romance.
I drown with a raging desire for fantasy
with a reality that doesn’t understand my love.
A love so kind and filled with unanimity that
my identity touches a crack on a spotless land.
A stream in the middle of nowhere;
flowing in directions that have no boundaries to fill.
To animate this relationship with myself,
I must expand my horizons and look beyond finite.
Instead of standing under the glass myself to learn my intricacies,
I must fall under the millions that shine over me.
Lay under the fire, feel the burn, and become a subject of stillness
to comfort the role that society illustrates.
How many times this sentiment arises and
how many times do I blink and lose sight of it all?
This will make me strong. Make me live. Make me affect.
Yes, these emotions are brief,
but night comes and the pain makes it last forever.
. . .