Arrival
Just barely awoken
Just freshly re-alive
And already my clean slate
is sullied,
My pure hope,
walking the tightrope,
fixed with the grim concentration
of a mortal preparing to die.
I keep the song in my head,
'till it's written down.
In those words
my pulse still harmonizes
with the soul of me,
In this music I can still access
those memories
my conscious self has taken
away from me.
I am losing
I am choosing
I am churning,
I am
I am
I am.
The fear of losing
is eating me cruelly,
there goes time,
inspiration, chances,
energy and manifestation.
Hope...
et tu, my friend?
Vanishing into the imagined
horrors
I have created for them.
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