Editing poetry: Gone Away from Everything

One of the lines of thought it’s possible to become trapped in, especially when you’re young and don’t value your own existence above everything else, is the existential crisis. We are animals, our function is to pass along our genetic material. Yet everything we have created as a species for thousands of years has been done to give some illusion of something else. There are moments when all of that seems so worthless, so obvious. This is one of those moments.

We’re just dividing
And running down the street
The lyrics in my head
Are falling through space like wingless doves
There is nothing to see here.

We’re just dividing
Like cells without passion
Dyed crimson and sweating under glass
Filled with poison
There is nothing to see here.

The cycles of piano
Seem to slow each round
And the photo grains moves across my eyes
In sharply pointed circles
There is nothing to see here.

Perhaps this is it
The fog descending
And the dust that waits in the wings
Falling,
Dark and heavy as blue velvet
There is nothing to see here.

via Editing poetry: Gone Away from Everything.

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