too many faces
too many days
too many places
too many ways.

too many feelings
too many dreams
too many ceilings
or so it seems.

too many thoughts
too many to write
too much rot
too much delight

so much compare
so much contrast
so long a tear
so blind a past.

such color in eyes
such beauty in breath
so bleached are lies
so absolute is death.

too sprung is spring
too sunned is summer
too awesome is autumn
too wretched is winter.

too odd is language
too concealing, sight
too corrupted the mind
to express its flight.

too much aching
too much lethargy
too many beginnings
only one end of me.