The Path

I don’t expect directions
they’re useless anyway

as my reference

I’ll have to depend upon
my own voice

tending to my own discrete guilt
swearing back as I hope

nobody’s notice in the clouds
nobody’s thoughts in the darkness

to make it seem better
I’ll imagine a Hero

just so not to remember how much
measured haunts my own stairs

listening too long
becoming so too commonplace

dying while my own shadow is so sucked in
moaning a web of a useful-less view

to cover my own liars