This is what it is.
That feeling when you can’t stop smiling,
Even as someone tells you how their fish just died.
And the defeat of the slow, shuffling steps by the light wistful gait.
And the overwhelming sensation that has you believing
That your 6th sense is nestled somewhere in the center of your chest.

It is not waiting for a spark to ignite
Because the fire infinitely ablaze,
Is, was, and will be.
Yet how did you not notice it all along?
Because it does not make you blind,
But abruptly peels open the skin
So you can finally look past the back of your eyelids.

And this is the climax.
Not the heart wrenching spiraling tragedy
People seem to confuse with excitement,
But the constant speeding forward that causes your stomach to stand outside of your body.

So this is why I write the only story ever told.


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