Your Automaton

It’s been wrung out and left to dry in the hot sun. 

If you are a surgeon and not a psychopathy burning ants to see what happens; 

What are you building. 

I wake up feeling like Frankenstein’s monster than some better form of myself, 

It’s the puzzle half perceived. 

Seasons changes, 

Summers heat fades, 

Yet the darkness is ever present. 

Morning comes and then the slow churn returns. 

To close to tragedies magnetic pole leaves the minds compass blind with a half a step from madness. 

You had the best version there is no 2.0 that could be better than what you had. 

Only thing left is broken file structure and corrupted memory, 

You can’t rebuild with ash but that is all that is left. 

I have always been moving toward a destination, 

Now I spin endlessly 

I’m perpetually too drunk laying back with my eyes closed, 

Only the nausea is missing. 

To many nights asking why left me in a staring competition with the floor, 

You don’t answer question only pose them. 

The load bares easer, 

It’s strange like noticing the dawn, 

When you take note, its already begun. 

I wanted with all that I had in me to be what you reflected in your eyes. 

I could summon your phantom and fill its mouth with my words, 

Let it coo me to sleep or berate me into the corner. 

I bring you less and less, 

To many years of living with your ghost I think has taken its toll. 

If it were easy then everyone would try it, 

True beauty is like the sandcastle, 

Enjoyed for a time but the waves of life are always approaching to erase it.