Emaciated dreams,
I'd love to take you out for dinner,
But I cannot afford it.
Four years and 40,000 dollars
Will only get me a piece of paper, a robe, and a hat.
What will I do with all of that?
Scenery. Decoration. Pizzazz.
All viable options,
None satisfying.
So what shall I feed you?
I gave you my childhood.
Eighteen conscious, cognizant years you spent
Feeding on me until this point. My peak.
How awkward:
No empathy is rewarded to those scaling mountains
By those who have scaled mountains.
Mistakes are hereditary. . . like blood.
Please pass the steak, if you can spare some.
Cook it rare.
I'm hungry, too.
I'd like to eat at the round table of stability, but
First I'd have to pass the dimly-lit trenches of uncertainty.
I'll take my dream with me; she hates to be left alone.
So do I.
Any and all noises, large or small, pierce the air
In dark rooms with pointy objects
Invisible to untrained eyes.
I've walked into them a hundred times.
I would do it a hundred more. . .
For you, my dream.
