interpreted like the fucking bible,
but the investors
have resorted to post-structural academia.
i never needed a powerful external stimulant.
always content with chiaroscuro mirrors– but
the closer i get
to clearly-defined victory, awash in champagne and wine, i can’t
help but wonder if
the checkered finish-line
will live up to expectations.
i hate to say it,
but i’m no longer certain
it’ll be worth it
without you here to be proud of me, without you here to be in the crowd for me, without you here to shout at the clouds with me, without you here to silence the doubts for me.
outwardly i’m fine, but
see you at every milestone i conquer, and i see visions of
the way things were in
honest to god,