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I wrote a verse poem and in my verse I was somewhere melodic, lost in the world and forever a part of it. And in my diction, I created this fiction. A depressed state of me but all the happier for it.
I likewise on the words I use, they batter and bruise me and then make me feel better for it. I ignore and embrace them all the same for this verse. This rhythm of prose that I chose.
I stacked the odds for an against me and in te end I knew I would both win and lose. How is that for self-sabotage?
My brain trying to hold on to the remains of a life I should have let die but I persist in my madness and all the while knowing that greatness is just one step away into an infinite universe.
