I appreciate simplicity.
The mediocrity
Of being absorbed in my thoughts.
The life of a solivagant.
It's who I am.
It's all I know.
Do not deem me ill because
You have never sat down and
Explored the dynamics and complexities
Of your being because we are clearly not On the same mental or spiritual calibre.

see, what confuses me
is that i'm most often kept
on the outside
of your shining brilliance

i don't get to experience
the marvelous rays of
your genius
and that's alright, i suppose

i instead get to glimpse
from the outside
when i get the chance
and i've settled for that

standing out and looking in
is where i’ve grown accustomed
it’s okay, don’t feel bad
i’m used to it

( it is now a case of the day-to-day
rather than the out-of-the-ordinary. )

it surely isn’t your fault
that someone like me is
so plain, that your greatness
overshadows my own
mediocrity.

-d.m.

i've tried writing beautiful words that are able to move souls just by an eye stroll through a paper filled with nothing more than letters and i've tried creating art by provoking these twists that look incredibly sweet on your lips just by the action of articulating jaw bones and mouth muscles with the help of vocal chords that somehow find the perfect pitch for pronouncing your name and the process may sound exhausting but it's actually extremely simple and generates astonishing results when performed correctly

i've tried gently touching the hidden corners of any heart that's not completely alive just by letting it feel there exists a reason to breathe through vivid images captured by a time machine which makes seconds last eternally and has the power of making feelings flow like rivers

i’ve tried to replicate the exact shade of your eyes just by flooding a vacant piece of fabric with glowing pigmentation and i’ve tried matching your weightless spirit just by drifting to the pulse of your most cherished melodic set of echoes

yet i’m not trying hard enough

If the world keeps screaming I’ll break the night,

I’ll turn it around, I’ll bend the notion.

If the height gets steeper, don’t make a sound.

"Sacrifice yourself" is the name of religion.

Spinning the gears and faking frustration,

while the system fakes a male ******.

Here is your chance to go sour and

I hope you have the guts to walk into this trap;

If nothing is real, or we’re made out of sin,

what is the image of God?

I am not willing to be forgiven,

I am not the victim of your forgiveness,

I am not forgiven, I am not a sinner,

and I’m not a martyr for your God.

I’m just Austin Heath,

dying, and leaving nothing behind,

in the name of no one or no idea,

and not even poignantly.

Just mediocre.