Sometimes I’m Honest

by ibeamarioh


I wish I was better

I wish I was my ideal self

It’s as if there is a dichotomy between the, I, who strives for perfection

Who sees and feverishly seeks opportunity in every breath

Who wakes up every morning holding each day with joy and smile full of possibilities

An I, who believes with all things of the spirit influences everything and has ability to move the tangible and intangible alike.

And the lazily progressive, Me, who is planted in stillness

Finding reasons to divert motivation and stifle ambition

To sink into the sludge of the filth peddled in a daily concoction

Used to dilute and deny the existence of true self

Recognizing the canvas, being a pixel in the dreary image that is to become

“life as we acknowledge it”

And they fight.


The Rise and Ebb, as if Poseidon himself puppets the diagram of undulating