i realized
i wasn’t lost
so much
just
guided by
long dead stars
a broken
astrolabe
a fool
confused
staring at a map
where exes marked
fragments
of myself
impossible
to reassimilate
those figments
of love’s imagination
are safer
with them
rather than
a bipolar bard
following
a compass
which only ever
steered me
fartherandfurther
from where
i meant to go

but i cannot
seem to catch
the breeze
the tides
are still
and i am so
very tired
with too many
miles behind
and a finite
number remaining
the sad mad king
of the sparrows
shouting at the sun
a chorus of
feathered demons
screaming along
begging for answers
lost between milemarkers