Mars hurls heavy balls of fire my way
Lunging, stifling, controlling my direction
So that I may only dive from their path
And again I am dominated
Strange this
In the absence it would appear
I had no direction in my life
When only the diametrical is true
Still, I cannot help but feel I am chasing chimeras
Existing over a great distance
Even when close, this same melodrama I’ve played out
So many times before - it is cliché
I find this kitsch emotion, and it envelops me
Not like a warm blanket
But rather a cold slug that cramps my breath
And pollutes my lungs
Should I write such feelings sweeter?
Thus...
Very well
Sweetly it is
And my harshness is gone
But to whose avail does it foster
When it is I alone who is again chasing the shadow?