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Prestidigitation
a rat in a labyrinth, each hallway is empty,
thinking of death, begging it not to tempt me,
lefts and rights, dulls and brights, fights and flights,
purposefully devoid of purpose, on purpose without a purpose,
ants fountaining out of holes, i didn't pay to participate in this circus,
i can't see the ends of the hallways, they fade from clear to grey to black,
on permanent vacation from vacation, all the memories are beginning to crack,
not sure if i'm peering up or down, straining my eyes to the heavens or to the hells,
not sure if i'm the good guy performing miracles, or the bad guy casting spells,
to the distant pasts that i constantly create,
to the boundless futures i can never relate,
caught in the middle where middles don't exist,
suffocating in oxygen, drowning in mist,
where do the things that don't belong belong?
asking god, why did you create what should have never been created all along?
no answers, never any answers - i don't buy religion, i'm not a ventriloquist,
only if i made money, only if i became a celebrity, only i then will go missed,
if only i made money, if only i became a celebrity, the facade of immortalization a panacea,
instead, i'm shitting on my live-at-home 25-year-old self in my parents-bought-for-me kia,
i'm in the maze, not even sure if i want to continue trying to find a way out,
exacting a lack of difference between the correct path and the led-astray route...
