Where the hell do you think you’re going?
is but imagery
toyed with in
An unreality that persists in dreams of innocence.
Scars and blood buckets must be a worthy cost
for a cause proposed in flowering tones.
Frame it on the wall where it hangs to embrace dust.
in passing graces
presented in flashes
that all but dissipate when the razors beckon
and the abyss comes to collect its toll
for betting on will too long to overcome its adversary
when will has been diminished to a flicker of itself.
Where in this plan do you find yourself stood?
Readjust if you must yet find the compass never shakes,
and a spot on a map is a spot on a map;
Another dot in a life where havens are running.
Watch as they careen over the edge,
and I wish I followed suit.
Where the hell is this intended to end?
but colored vibrant
if placed into imaginative phrasing of triumph,
depicting the demise as a definite defeat
where the loss is both a victory to claim
and the lasting impression to place into print.
A number is all that encapsulates the story.
( ❤ Mitch)