The Galactic Mind Series

My mind is a galaxy, spilling the stars across these empty pages.

Debating a swirling pen to write about problems like unfair wages.

But all my pen can write about are the problems whirling around my head.

A selfish poem for a selfish person who can’t even seem to get out of bed.

In the quiet of the night, hands shaking, ink drips from inside of my mind.

But I can’t help it, it’s my subconsciousness that simply wants to find,

The way to peace, a restful sleep. The kind of sleep where you fall deep,

Deep into your mind, into your dreams. The reality is tearing from the seams.

And I can’t seem to get a grip. The ink is falling drip by drip.

I wish to write about things that matter, but my selfish mind I can’t help but flatter.

I claw at my eyes, to my despise, I can’t help but write of selfishness.

When the pen finally brushes the paper, they share an unforgivable kiss.

I’m writing of my despair,

So everyone prepare,

For the burden of my demise,

A broken master in a perfect disguise.