Carson Euclidius Rx (yonnon) Offline

My Mother is a Child, and This is my Only Pen

I remember those days
when that
a haze in my head,
a glaze in my stare,
and a half dead icy awareness
made my company
-atmosphere-
a part of me
left
a body away from where the rest of me was trying to be.

I remember wondering
if happy endings were made up
misconceptions
fucked up
ways of building dreams
for children and other people who don't like to think about what I think about.

I still wonder, of course,
setting death aside for a moment.
Enough to try and figure
what the hell we still try for.

It's the little things, I guess.
Then further: is that enough to combat the real big rest left out there....


Probably not.