I can’t help playing the fool,
                            Dancing without dignity.
This fleeting life blasting me with a thousand things I don’t know
                            Or care to understand, anyway.
I say everyone, while pointing at myself
                I’m trying to explain.

We know not what we are, but what we may become:

-    Or else we know not what we are,
           But what we hope we’ve been.

And just dead end tunnels in my mind.
I open my world to the infiniteness of space
Packaged neatly into
                            Hole in my head.

Or could I put my eyes
                                        In my spine, to see how I feel.

It’s all a matter of proportion, anyway,
            In making ashes to ashes, and dust to dust.
I can’t feel the irony of my own morality.
         Laughing, because this fleeting life won’t stop blasting me with

                                                Rainbows inside my consciousness
I fall, ground opening beneath my feet,
            Into a
                            Hole in my head.
I won’t practice climbing thoughts for a while,
                            Until I lose my eyesight when the lights go out.

            I can’t see where I become or where I end,
                                                I begin in a dream of what I was.

~Joanne S