A Broken Down Machine

Once upon a daytime thinking binge, I dreamt of being wise.

I hoped to find the path, the love, to give away the green within my eyes. 

I fantasized about connection, protections, and souls perfect.

I emphasized abstract collections, affections, and soul purpose.

I wrote my verses, my songs, my essays and letters from the edge

I sought the scenery, the greenery and

Danced around my bed.

I was butterflies moonbeams, a cat, a gypsy; a poet.

I felt the highs, touched the sky, knew beauty and how to show it.

I could come down, to aplace to lay and wait for issue.

I wouldn't make a sound, start turning blue, crumble into tissue. 

I am empty, alone, tired and bleeding regret.

So hefty is the stone I carry to free me to forget. 

Once I'd been aware, vision clear and saw what isn't seen.

Now I'm laid bare, I drown in fear, a broken down machine.