eyes up

I wake up tired,

it's a cynical rest,

don't sleep too much

else the cyclical test

of wasted time

will circle back

and tie my mind

in knots I'm terrified to unwind,

I pulled so hard and still no sign

of why it's impossible to find

that one blue wire, one

screw loose in place,

should've blew it off before, save face

while you bet less on golden fate,

less heart to take or breath to waste,

but hey, I burned it anyways,

I waved the smoke

into my lungs

and knowledge stung, but doubt: it choked;

new trees don't grow,

I was once told,

until the old have all burned down,

and well, if falling to the ground

is all to which I can amount,

then be the spark,

and I'll be the ash,

and there is just one thing I'll ask:

I killed my phoenix.

take yours back.