The new me is becomming (final portfolio draft)

The new me is becoming



old fast.
Like a cherry car that depreciates
in value (is fucked)
the minute it’s driven off the lot.

I’m a collector
of karmaflies and
every time (I feel)
I have enough
I see in the distance two more fluttering desires.
I must have them!

So I enter the night with a dream
catcher in hand,
searching and seeking for
something(someone?) that I know
is waiting
for me,

like white diamond stars in
the black sky whose glow can be seen
throughout eternity.
They are lighthouses guiding blind ships
towards the rocky shore
of knowledge (home).

I’m a collector.
but every time I think I have enough
I see in the distance two more fluttering
about elusively as if to tantalize
(haven’t I been here before?)
This is becoming

old fast.
Must keep moving forward or you’ll
stand still for too long and they will ask for your name.
Than you cant be you anymore. In an instant
you’re a statue, fixed solid in one frame of time.
Remember(what was I talking about again?)

Before this dream began (I was seeking for….)
I’m a collector.