some minds are a cluttered hoarders house,

attics filled to the brim with regrets and

broken promises spilling out of unused bedrooms

it's a lonely state of mind,

a hidden disarray

some eyes look down a dollar bill telescope,

to inhale clarity down a line,

to believe the stars still do shimmer even when the world is dark and,

it's a solitary beauty,

nothing tangible to grasp

and others;

taste amphetamine clarity just to remember their plans for the day,

every room of their mental house filled,

with closed doors,

nobody responding to help clean up the mess

i think that we all wish to feel some sense of clarity,

that we all wish to see some linear paths lit up with signs that say, "yes!", "keep going this way", "you're on the right track"

except-

i think all of us are fighting for sunlight through the fog,

searching for the North star in a world that has no clear direction,

hoping for a feeling as clear as crystal