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RotturaBlue and black buildings weepComputer sirens buzz and bleepSecrets that no one will keepStaggering through theCollection baskets melt and fuseCharity that no one can useA sudden chill that pales the huesFloundering through theLaying back among the spitsBrochette thieves' stolen witsFumbling for the lost exitsGasping for theRain comes heavy, tearing hardAbandoned docks, a lowered guardThe unknown spreading fast inwardFinally reaching the
A Run Down AberrationI'd like to prove you wrongSo flat out wrongGet you to getSee that you seeThat this isn't meThis pile of anatomyOne giant ribbon ofUnraveling carbonFrayed since spooledShrink wrapped in schoolsAll these futile rulesJust one more wordOne more letterI swear I can write betterSee, feel, sink deeperSensory cascades gathering all overLIke some damn roverObserve, collect, reportAgain, again, againBut every now and thenI stopI try to let it settle...But then the nostalgia comes rushing backMemories cramped inside a cheap back packDowsed in random informationThat I might never need...But for the peopleWith their own regretsThe leftover snippetsThe ache and elationA run down aberrationThe temptation to cry'This is my vocation!'A sensation which can quickly turnTo frustrationLearning that you're just burningWith churning sun glow that gets you throughYour restless morningsOf the tragedy that is simple boredomSo when I look at you I knowThat's not hi