My Own

-My Own-
by
Keaton Foster



My own
Not yours
Not Gods
No one alive
No one dead
All that is me
This world that I see
This truth that I bleed
These words
Poetic accidents
Via patterns expressed
Where am I going
Where have I been
Not a damn clue
Nonetheless
I face my muse
The foundation of my core
My life’s absolute whore
I write about all that I am
Not all that I know
Such a huge difference indeed
For most, reality is a lucid concept
For me, reality is an archaic artifact
That I dare not bother myself
Being able to touch
Being able to feel
Means nothing to me
Epic amounts of images
Reside behind my eyes
I see everything
Each second of life
Like still pictures
Frightening portraits
Frozen for all time
A rolodex of ideas
Easily drawn upon
I can never forget a single line
I can never turn it off
There it always is
Never letting me sleep
Devoid of all peace
In rage, I write
In pain, I express
I give it all that I can
Because there is nothing less
Each night I pass out
From absolute exhaustion
Each day I wake up in fear
That I may never see another
Thus ending my need to write
The endless remaining amounts
Of images out of my head
The only endgame in sight
My own
Not yours
Not Gods
No one alive
No one dead
All that is me
Upon the page I bleed
Read if you can
Offer me an ear turned friend
Take my words deep inside
Hold each one as your own
Making a difference refined
Down to a poetic science
A chemistry of ideas
That long after my time
Will remain as a fluid construct
Shaped into whatever container holds them
These pictures I must write out of my head
Until then they will be
My own…


My Own
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012.