as I grow older,
i find myself holding a golden bow and arrow.
With this I contemplate all things possible threw weapons.
A few slides of my wrist
and twists of my fingers;
pyramid scheme type wordplay,
and random,inconclusive pointing in all directions...
the question had to arise:
is his mind now a star?
I pray that it isn't,
but then again
what do we control in our lives?
besides dissilusional visions of
our haunted minds.
miles from the woman who birthed us
with no concept of time
I bask in the awkwardness of tonight,
ripe with denial.