Tangibles

Tangibles, they slow us down. Fungible, the days become.

I don’t want to swim or drown, I will float, like mere crumb.

What am I, if not a figment of my own imagination?

Celebration and elation used to give me quite a boost.

Skip suggestions and citations, lead myself on rad adventures,

Start the fires, kick the tires, my resolve has been reduced.

Introducing every chapter, like it answers all my questions.

That’s too much for me to handle, nevermind how I’m perceived.

There was time for supplemental, there was time I gave suggestions,

Time has passed, I hide in shadows, or perhaps I’ve been deceived.

Give me reasons just to smile, give excuses to explain,

Yet reality is vile, unresolved and rather plain.

Every morning brings a promise, always ready to elate.

So, perhaps I’m only dreaming, and in fact I’m doing great.