Beautiful Broken Brain

There’s no traquility by the riverside,
this walk’s too long & the grass offensive
no good sense in the snow underfoot—
as we amble into knots both conversational,
directional & otherwise the sun begins its
descent & I’m craving release into darkness
elsewhere far more utopian than this idyll;
your breath in the chill feels apparitional,
its nigh impossible for me to apprehend
what hikes on the back of it

Perhaps its narcissism or a far deeper path-
ology parading itself as mundane discontent
when a fox comes flittering by I stop to focus
on its posture of innocence; my disdain for nature.
If I were any better you’d claim me secondhand
from my renown & forgive me then, fully absolve
my guilt. I imagine I’m loved but this is aspirational
want as we are all in the liminal space of an otherwise
pedestrian passage into oblivion, deflected
by affect of passive self-interest. More riddle
than poetry, I have no other way of existing.