Kind of Maybe ((-))

So tired am I of falling in love with ideas.
The future not merely unknown, but entirely uncharted -
to gauge possibility, to gauge potential, to gauge what might be -
foolish, folly-driven pursuits.
What that I would give to pursue the now, what lies before me,
not what is to be but that which is -
but the now is rotten, corrupt, filthy and dirty and filled with poison, but, well,
I always had a taste for poison, an insatiable yet unpalpable taste for venom,
one I both crave and detest but cannot escape or avoid.
So tired am I of falling in love with ideas.
Such future I see - not saw, but see - such is it that I fall, fall forward,
in backward and into myself like that time you asked me if I loved you
and I pretended to be asleep.
I fall, -
Because the future I saw was not merely to be, but was rather a dream,
an idea, no, neither of those I see now but a delusion.
Such is the cost of idealism, of dreaming that maybe you might rise above,
that maybe we might not change with age but grow,
that together we might become something not better,
but ideal -
That you and I, springboards for one another, could grow so strong
and so well both into and out of one another, that even though the world might not
consciously envy us,
it would secretly hate us for becoming aware, for becoming aware, becoming better,
for getting as near as possible and even beyond that, to superseding all the world around us.
So tired am I of falling in love with ideas, that
though the death of the idea I built of you be torturous and murderous
to an infinite degree, to such that even were your flesh to whither and your eyes to dull
and your journey on this mortal coil to conclude that I would take all of that before
I could handle the departure of your idea;
Yet, such is the folly of foolish romanticism, as
always, always the idea dies long before the flesh and eyes and journeys of mortals end -
What that I could cease in this, this dream and fantasy of a golden tomorrow,
of hopes not of us but of what we might become,
of travels we might take as two and complete as one,
of finding ourselves on solitary paths but merging at the foot of the sun,
of beginning so distant but, no -
So tired am I of falling in love with ideas.
So tired am I of falling in love with ideas.
So tired am I of falling in love with ideas,
that I think kind of maybe I'm going to just let this one die.