I’m not sick but emotionally whipped
I’m so busy keeping up with my life
It’s as if I’m afraid I’m going to miss it
Our souls have a path and a map
Do I leave the window unlatched
Invite spirits in or pass
For what is left behind shall follow
And what is made of new water
Can swallow the facsimile
A carbon copy not to be
Bootstrapped but rather
Detached from what will become
Without wondering if
What he has is enough
Outside of this head
Walking the streets
Then into his bed as cryptic
As it may sound it is
A spiritual whiplash
Of halves being pulled apart
Wholes reunited center to heart
Oh how I’ve missed becoming
© GÄ
Poétique 