Desperate romantic hour

I feel like spitting some poetry

Will it get old or always feel new
all the dreams I create
Revolving exclusively around me and you

You shared some with me
Now they’re all I care to see
but my dear
is this a trajedy or comedy?

for if you were me
you’d know the fear consuming

the mind of schizo sees all the bad ends
even before the journey begins

is it doubt?
for crying out loud
how hard I have to peer to see through the cloud

There is that glimmer of hope you’ve given me
which is why I make it all I see
push out the rest
ignore the uncertainty

but I must ask again
Trajedy or comedy?

will it get old?
or is it me you seek?

the obtuse recluse
the isolate
the unstable
he who devoutly adores
he who seeks to be restored
what a chore

Just one more smile
just one more time
just 900 miles
perhaps a little more

Not the speed, not the acceleration, the jerk, nor the flux
Nothing left that I can adjust

The inevitable unfolding awaits but
What will it be?
ongoing uncertainty?
A comedy or trajedy?


Very nice, poem. I can feel the emotion in your words.

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Its good would happily read more.

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thanks folks…

The muse only rolls around so often. I’ll share more later on.