Oats rolled flat. The grayish pale nourishment Much like the brain Though These have no want No need, no desire For a hand touching a back Holding a hand. Company to sate the lonely hearts That linger and solitude of desperate need Need for a small moment of comfort. Help in nourishing the day When The ever present cranial explosion of self-loathing And insecurity Drive me to no longer Desire to be me. To leave the flat plains of meager existence To see another being Where again The consciousness tells me I will fail again and again Over and over Circling in samsaric life Just hoping to be human once more Having a chance to succeed at The next spin of the wheel To maybe find love Not the tortured lust for youth. That serves me now But maybe Contented hand-in-hand love Walking across the plains Among the blowing grains Waving As a sound of Joy