Nobody has to know
that I am tragically wise
in that, I have fooled myself
into thinking I knew who you were.
I am nothing
everything I’ve lied to myself about
my brittle skull, my casing of a cranium
that encloses only uncertainty,
has detached itself from the infinity of being.
I am divided
into a world of eternal division,
for I no longer know
the logic of life,
the peculiar pulse of existential reasoning:
I am still floating
Thank you as always for reading and sharing your thoughts with me in the comments below.
” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”