Comical Realization

Walking down our stairs alone again
was preparing my medicine in the dark
when the comedic realization struck

I was marinating in a soup of salt and hatred,
before I set out to prepare my salve

And then, walking down our stairs alone,
I almost tripped on an errant item,
littering the floor

The item was strong, with soft, rounded edges,
yet, mixed in equal distribution with complicated angles
and sharpness

Walking down those stairs, I saw the back of your head,
staring vacantly into your dumb cellular communication device,
probably browsing the vain mind pollution strangers spew

The comedic realization washed over my body like a hundred year high tide that,
even giants could surf

The laughable cognizance, an unknowable spark, pouring from the fabric of the universe

I learned in that singular moment, walking down our stairs alone, in an arena of silence we both helped build,
that I have what you have not

While you sit alone, clinging to fantasy,
I reside in MY zone, firmly grasping strands of a rope,
I spent a decade weaving

While you sit alone, I too sit, but not alone
I am surrounded by my creations,
I am enveloped by the realization of my many abilities
I am showered in the light of what my small hands have created

While I walked down our stairs, I was never truly alone
I enjoy the limitless expanse within the depths of my synapses
I feed on my energy and expel wonderment
I consume star dust and explode, ripping the fragile fabric of space
and repairing it with ease

With nothing but my years of experience, and the genetics my ancestors lent,
I have built a multitude of profitable industries, endlessly manufacturing that which could never be, created by another

My creativity is my refuge, my art is my soul
Breathing new meaning into dreary proceeding

While you sit, alone
without your mind to keep you company,
and soon,
drinking my evaporation