it's 2 am and i'm not sure what the point is anymore (poem)

the problem is

that i can't see

beauty in simple

things anymore

it's that beauty is

temporary

and it is trivial

it's that beautiful

things don't seem

to phase me anymore

all i know is that

the only consistent

thing in life anymore

is loss

     what's the point
     of noticing
     if we all die
     anyway?

and it seems

i've lost the ability to

distinguish what's

beautiful and what's

strikingly average--

     and if that,
     itself is beautiful,
     too--

and even what's

right or wrong

and that scares me

and now i wonder,
do i need some
kind of revelation
to feel alive
or if i could
make up some
blindingly false
achievement
and create
my own meaning--

     be my own
     god?

"well, i say to live it out
like a god
sure of immortal life,
though you are in doubt,
is the way to live it.
if that doesn't make
God proud of you
then God is nothing
but gravitation
or sleep is the
golden goal."