Burn Blues

I fill my head with voices of feeling to make my voice drown or dance

Am I an illusion of myself?

Cast in a play directed by me?

The emptiness of reality is kicking in

A come down effect of returning

Too proud to reach out

Too weak to smile it in the face

Caught there but not quite satisfied with the here

In disbelief it all ever was a reality

The disjointed merging of its magical air and mundane murmurs

How do I let what was when it’s still seeping out of me 

Yet trying to not spill?



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