When the dust has settled

i’m exhausted
that’s why i’m pissed
i have missed the times
i needed to care
but i can’t
i saw the shadow of what my
future used to look like

i’ve given lip service to death
with pain as my prayer
though i haven’t become a disciple
it still loves me more than life

i invoked pan the other night
he has been playing tricks on me
there is a fine line between
paranoia and imagination
and he has plucked mine
like an unwanted hair

when the dust has settled
and the demiurge has been abolished
i can bask in the beauty of disarray