The wrong place along the wrong timeline,
A comedy of happenstance,
But let's venture into this open minefield,
Let's dance, let's run, let's dance.
Let's follow this recipe for organized chaos,
And other such contradictions,
Let's light it on fire and drink it down,
Like other such vices and careless addictions.
Lodged in my lungs, you'll hear a strong, yet timid, battlecry,
A pervasive, unknown hunger that nothing can quite satisfy,
A feeling I know I shouldn't have yet, nevertheless, can't quite classify,
An undiscerning burning, a yearning I can't qualify or quantify,
Nothing to gain, nothing to lose, nothing to indemnify.
I wield the passion of a god of war,
who can't recall what they're fighting for.
About the Creator
Dee Yazak
A technical and science writer by trade that dabbles in poetry (and occasionally fiction) for fun. Her poetry focuses on themes of aimlessness, nostalgia, and the loose, delicate threads of human connection.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.