DEAR SOMETHING I LOVED

I’m on the outside of all this
and what I’m writing
it’s hit or miss
I either get it
or I don’t
and more likely
I just won’t
because I’d rather stagnate
and choke
than shuffle forward
to the process
of experiencing
experience.

The juice of the fruit
I remember
was rich
and when I go in
to bite again
I pull back
with a mouth
full of ash
and I quit
because…
Damn dude.
Just…
What’s the point?

My defense is
I lock up
and I think too much
building worlds
exactly how they’re supposed to be
when faced
with suiting me
operating
effortlessly
with no work put in
toward actually achieving
and when it’s time
to acknowledge the reality
I buckle
because…Why?
Fuck.
It just ain’t how I imagined it would be.

Something
I loved once
is eating at me
but I can’t go back
to how it used to be
and moving on
feels like forgetting
everything
and literally?
It’s killing me.
There are no answers
‘sides what you can deduce
for yourself.
Realtivity
is everything
But seriously,
what is
anything
really?

Something
I loved once
is forgetting me
and I’m salivating
for a taste
of said thing
I’ll never be able to replicate
again.
Sloth is sin
and I’m awash in apathy
waiting
waiting
waiting
for something worth remembering
to begin.
When?
The million dollar question.
When…

When objects set in motion
keep rolling
and objects set at rest
distress
gathering moss
and rotting.
Knowing is half the battle
I guess.
The rest?
It’s only a matter
of momentum

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