Secret Desires of Human Street Lights

And so this melancholy blade
can accomplish the task of cutting through
this skin tissue cocoon of numbness.

When all feelings are gone
that's the one thing left to call upon.

I recognize this despair as a guiding sight,
slowly rushing, quickly creeping
towards God's brilliant light.

Could this relentless gallop be but a charade?
To distract us before we fade?

the secret desire of human street lights:
to burn out, becoming one
with the blackest night.

but to also live forever in
erected poems and written buildings.

a dream to be what one is not: to not be.
how can I open up and accept me
without the extinguishing of a flame?

I Desire:
to be one with the night,
to not be.
but to also burn blinding bright,
to be.
that is my human plight.