Today I split myself in half
– then pieced myself back together
I handed over my heart and body
– then accepted them straight back again
The richest man would have nothing but a map
of where the fuck he was headed
but the rest of us will walk straight into walls
self immolate, with a smile
– perhaps recognising what we’ve done, at around the half-way points.
There’s something in that, even if it doesn’t have a name, nor usually any fans.
I can feel fire, I can touch colours, I can see love, I can look down
and there’s nothing left –
but my Self