if i ever found a truth
would it ruin my writing
lend expectations of sleep
fill in the blank space that begs of color
retire this beat down key board
sever my affair w. pbr
beget the quiet emo tunes that herald the dawn
arrest the urges that force me to write thru green lights
alleviate the burdens placed on random slips of paper
negate the surplus of others words pinned to the wall
let this tiny brain find respite
quiet the un-yielding mono log
accept moments of nothingness
find the importance to true quietness

or would it
feed these things
that eat me

the irony
is my pure acceptance of neither
while wanting both

its my inability
to decipher
which would be better

what does one lose
to gain