surreal skies

she says the sky's surreal.
she never explains,
but oddly,
everyone understands.
they have their own ways.

chasing concepts

pale moon to our left,
headed south, chasing the weather.
why chase a concept?

seems that's all we do,
chasing love,
chasing knowledge,
chasing anything that can make us a name.

why do we need that name anyway?
your legacy's nothing more than an overpopulated concept.

orange lights bathe your face,
you gas it harder,
"i can't wait to get out of this place."

"why?"

this page

i'm afraid to face this page,
it snarls, revealing its bloodthirsty teeth.
but i make a mark regardless.
and soon enough,
i've made a masterpiece
from nothing but a feral page,
and a wanderlust thought.

legacy

this isn't right,
and we weren't meant to step this light.
we're just ready to make a legacy,
so let's sieze it.