My eyes ride deeper
Into their sockets
An exodus from the mundane?
Or an inclination toward delirium?
My brain transposes in crayon
I’ve never once visited
The Prime Material Plane
They say it’s inhabited
By the shells of my ancestors
Is it okay to remain “not quite”?
Not quite there
Not quite human
Not quite right
Not quite good enough
I peel the caramelized edges
From your smile
There are moments
When life is indigestibly sweet
And moments when every fruit proffered
Is naught but seeds and rind.
In defeat there is always the chance
For existential growth
If a bottom
Than a sky, silver-lined
I’ve a complicated relationship with society
When I was young and in school
My teachers complimented my wisdom
People often ask me how to live
(I’ve given a lot of unusable advice)
How the the hell should I know?
Technically I’m crazy
The Prime Material Plane is the one we live in
I don’t find it strange that people confide in me but that they seek my counsel is rather strange considering 😛 I think it goes to show we all have influence.