I get wasted on the dregs of my potential,
drunk with yesteryear’s dissipated moonbeams.
Faded phantasies measure inconsequential.
A happier me flubs his lines in dazed daydreams.

Lingering with intent, yearning to escape free
declaiming my hypocrisy in everything.
I’m irrevocably prone to hyperbole.
A petty king, burning in effigy by spring.

The basal world belongs to those who are swiftest
so I race to burnish my false reputation.
Veneers, omitted untruths, & polished bullshit
make a fool of Creation’s imagination.

In my halls of grandiose delusion, monsters lurk.
Well, perhaps, if not previously preoccupied,
assuring my anxiety was hard at work
to prevent me from feeling fully satisfied.

Always grasping for the treasures I can't quite have,
like your memory & kitschy champagne showers.
I’ve partitioned myself into two feuding halves,
cursing my lifetimes of forsaken hours.

Begging for something unaffected by these blues
like a bit of bliss not tainted by avarice
to conceal a merry cavalcade of abuse
levied on fraying dopamine, now cadaverous.

Stranger to wondrous awareness rapturous.

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