i feel as if jackson pollack must have painted my soul

my scars are a roadmap across the desert, but shifting sands make navigation impossible

i am like a flash frozen thundercloud struck by lightning and shattered into a thousand bits of aether, destined to rage in a thousand impotent storms

like a choose your own adventure, but the middle is mired in a series of similar mistakes, sinking in remorse and the ending is nebulous but seemingly destined for tragedy

some days are spent as an empty vessel

others a leaf in the river, pulled by random currents, unsure of direction, frayed at the edges and content to float even if drowning is inevitable

always ready for a nap but unable to stop the dischordian thoughts of chaos and inner need for her

self exploration and utter denial of maybe there is not enough super glue on the planet to put it all back together again

cluster headaches and empty promises, trash blowing in the breeze capable of sublime movements that occasionally appear beautiful

a warrior, a coward, a lover, a saint, a sinner, jack of all trades yet truly proficient at none

a poet jester, more cave painting than laureate, more hallmark greeting card than sonnet

some days it is all figured out, some all whithered doubt, contemptuous and varied shades of misery

a quantum entanglement of nuance and neurosis, talented tongue and turner of phrase

a door to door salesman of emotional investment and overdue payments

an incontinent theorist on the ins and outs of entropic descent into madness

in a state of constant contradiction and rapt obedience

molding clay, but unshaped by indifferent hands

the most genuine fraud, the most fraudulent original, the dichotomy of who i am