n0t a waste 0f space.

phased out

i go through phases, kaleidescope eyes, 

color-tinted rays and bottleneck mind.

i was never cool, with choppy, home-cut hair

paint-splattered rags, same as i always wear.

and i take my passions, wear them all thin

diphanous, gossamer, just taken from wind.

just whims, just mandela designs,

till i tire of what inspires me during that time.

phased out, just a periodic orbit,

predictable, short-living, till passions are eclipsed.

and i'm tired of knowing a little of none, just a tiny snippet

of the things that i've done, never accomplished,

just dipped my toes in, till the water ran cold

and i forgot how to swim. 

so out of the pool, my passions, i climb,

with a webbed world of inspirations while i'm just a fly.

i tattoo my beliefs all over my person, 

my soul just at tapestry of the things i deem worth it. 

and i don't wear my heart on my sleeve, i wear it as skin 

my identity in heartbeats and fascination.

just parrotting whatever catches my eye,

just painting tattoos in temporary dye.

phases, phased out, fearful of change

the thing that i'm best at while underneath i remain

the same, barnacle slave, a leech that sucks out

the life from my brain. 

a cyclical wheel, disorienting ellipse,

just revolving around the missing pieces.

finding excitement in hobbies and talents,

till passion loses its luster and i remain out of balance. 

i go through life in periods and chapters

and i'm tired of never committing to anything that matters. 

how can i stay in love for more than a month

when i wear my hair the same for weeks

and then forget it for a new one. 

and i can commit one hundred and one thousand percent

but only for a week, i burn out like a comet.

and phases are fun when your exploring yourself

but not when you get lost in everything else.