There’s a picture of sadness.
Desiring not to be haunted by eyes.
Wishing to be buried deeper in the ground.
You wake up one morning, feeling different.
Like a yesterday has been erased from
A memory sharper than a double-edged sword.
An inspiration becomes a staple food for
Someone who can’t afford a fancier meal.
It’s an irony of a king’s table at dinnertime.
Soaked in our dreams.
Never wanting to cut our slumber.
The vain of loving too much is unbearable.
To decide becoming an extraordinary is
Putting nails on our toes when failed.
The less we have is no delight.
And breaking a picture, and breaking a
Morning, and breaking an inspiration, and
Breaking a dream, and breaking an extraordinary.