Unsure
Jul 30, 2024
I sit.
Dormant at my desk, in a
state of suspended in-action.
Recording and deleting
sections of my
psyche in the form of
online posts.
Intermittent interactions
rendering reckless better sensibilities.
Like foreplay for the righteous mind.
To remain
masterfully inconsiderate as
incessant ticks talk me into hitting send when
I should have known that time was shorter.
Borders between do
and done become
target practice for enemies
to invade spaces I thought I’d conquered long ago.
To believe in anything
else,
would be to replace my conception of Love
with the mundaneness of sanity.
To rapture Eternity, and replace it with what’s accessible.
