something for nothing

it isn’t free
this crazy focus
slipping through
sorcery and shadows
with passive satisfaction
it takes time
rushing against
artificial deadlines
of work, and sleep
it takes sour emotion
bouncing between anxious heartbeats
it takes fuel
to run this fatal engine
fuel that always burns too fast
and leaves you empty and obscure
in this fabricated reality
it takes alchemy
to create ugly order
out of beautiful chaos
it takes passion
extracting strength from weakness
it’s ritual, an obsession
that burns the darkness
and waits for
another tragic moment
of shaded bliss


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