I am just a concept.
shapes twisting, moving, changing,
taking on new and familiar forms,
fading and brightening, becoming new colors,
colors that may not even exist yet.
as one piece of me falls out of focus, another fills the void,
sometimes just shapes and colors, I'm unrecognized
other times, the shapes get smaller, more specific,
piecing together a collage of misshapen pieces,
ultimately giving the illusion of unity, of purpose.
i ask myself if how I'm seeing myself is how others do.
everyone pieces these shapes together differently,
creating a new being unique to them that i cannot precieve.
to them, i am those ideas, that shape,
and others can say what they see,
change what others see of me,
influence other's perception of myself.
to me, i am constantly changing,
constantly evolving,
the me that i can precieve is just a concept,
in that light i am just a thought, nothing more.

plastic,
seashells,
plants,
glass,

flowers,
feathers,
lead...
-h­ard pass.

A yearning swallowed softly,
In the wake of reality
Never dared to be dreamt -
It fades away, leaving whispers behind.

They follow me as I work, and
Gaze wistfully out of the misty window -
As I lay in my bed, tired
Dreaming softly of worlds (not my own).

Those whispers distract, daze,
Destroy - destroy my life, built so
Tirelessly with my sweat and despair.
How could I throw away all of this,
When I worked so hard to get it?

Those whispers, they answer -
You worked for it, yes,
but you never
Wanted it.
What is it that you want?

And my traitorous mind, it whispers
(no, screams) back -
Dew-dropped meadows, sunsets that
Burn like fallen gods;
Views that steal my breath, suffocate
Until no thoughts remain.

Awe that makes me breathless, paralyzed -
A beauty so vast it cannot be
Understood.
Dawns that rise with me, falling away
Like old skin, the sun raw
On my transformed self.

Oh, I know what I want.