Sit with me and watch me Stumble through my steady decline. Pieces crumble of what was dear Strewn across my wake, far behind. What is it you want Standing there with nothing to offer? Nothing you have do I desire And your furtive glances evoke my laughter. My senses, all filtered defenses Against what waits lurking for me. A Truth perhaps I can not accept Tangled in a web of self-scrutiny. What is learned, and what is burned? So much ash left for the swirling winds... Born thinking nothing at all To die, knowing not a damn thing? -Ian
Reason for writing:
who knows, it felt good.
Birth sign: Not entered
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