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srealismA
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for every out of reach but tantalizingly close-via-internet celebrity crush that makes no sense
I'm distracting myself from the hard work I'm doing
building walls around a ramshackled heart
that still has the remembrance murmur of those
I'd've been happy never to lose,
But had found unethical to hold onto
As my tragically disastrous fuck-up or illness (not sure)
Would unfairly sideeye their shot at happiness
since i'd none.
the more inescapable the fixation the more careful the heart scaffolding operation,
the lengthier bouts of irrationality a negotiation
concerning how much of myself i'd 'ere lost and was still slated to give up
to the heavens
and to go on with life
with the stents and buttresses
On an organ that rejoices at a bargain
Ignorant of a mismatched sense of value
Exhausted with the work of survival, and
Tiny windows still open for breathing
Hope against hope that I shall not
Be forced to regret everything I've invested my pennies in
And feels like the sum of Indra's net.
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