Just B.

I tend to find a commodity
in everything that lacks luster,
a Pinot Grigio state of mind,
I think I was born way past
my prime and I’m starting
to piece together that the
world is a sublime state of
wonder – that’s a load of bull,
I’ve always known that, I’ve
never been taken a fool,

but my rambling seems to
be used more as a tool than
any sort of bloodletting, and
I’m sick and tired of taking a
blow for people who don’t matter,
like I’m atoning for a sin I was
born into, I had no fault in this,
I have as much a right to bliss
as anyone else, correct?

I think that there’s a spotlight
waiting in my future, one I’ve
always been under but avoided
due to her presence, a denying
of my right to value or perhaps
just a personal plight of sadness.

I was born from something so
corrupt, so divine that everything
I touched turned to wine, even water,
you could say that’s not the truth,
you could say I’m full of youth and
a prime that will sear until it’s burnt
on the years spent waiting for some
sort of recollection, but it’s not true.

A divinity, a consistent and tireless
truth is what I’ve always yearned,
I think, just maybe, my worth lies
within the stars, my brain is far less
broken than my skin and bone and
muscle could ever hope to be, I
think, truly my loves, I think too freely,
too openly, sometimes brutally, and
sometimes soothingly, serenely so,

I think that you must go and find
your peace but for me it’ll never be,
sometimes you’ve just got to let
fate stay as it might, just set it free,
outlive damnation, outrun your plight.

Find within yourself an unholy light,
while mine will linger within the night.

– B.

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