I am tired.
Tired of indulging my epic states of being.
Tired of my depressions
for lack of epic states of being.
Becoming director of a Doja cat music video!
Or a sexy pole dancer rivaling Beyonces best twerk.
This is my worth, to have amazing work!
With lovers across the seas, to make love to me. As I write poetry. Into seeing clearly.
Bah so tired of the chase.
Always another epic dream to face.
Stop rhyming that’s lame!
I wanna see all the people and do all the things.
But maybe I’m the rat on a wheel stuck in it’s cage.
Chasing endless experience
to feel alive.
Avoiding the fear in the gaps
Of endless experience to feel alive.
Tired of insecurity.
Tired of being satisfied.
The long list I must do to feel amazing.
To not feel not amazing.
Tired of excited.
Tired of bored.
Of dark and light, black and white,
Not rhyming a line vs matching a word.
Same or different,
I want to not need
Anything to be.
And rest in nothing
Super duper free,
Beyond Beyonce rival pole dancing.
P.S., beware of self-indulgent poetry 😉
I release my writing.
And rest in the point beyond.
Thank you dear Claire, for your application.
Love,
Epic/Non-Epic Beyondness