Note to self

She sells sea shells.
By the sea shore.
Cause.
I ain't taking her flights of fancy.
As some sacred script.

Change?
If you missed the forest for the trees.
Maybe you'd think that.
But, I'm consistently me.
I just stopped fantasizing about people.
Accepted them for how they were.

And, threw them away.
Like the refuse they are.

Everyone is a temporary light.
In a sea of engulfing darkness.
And I will shine brighter than the sun.
In the middle of night.