A constant parade of names
come into your head
when you’re not sleeping well.
Someone told me these things
happen for a thousand reasons.
But we say “a thousand reasons”
to make it easier to accept
that we don’t know anything
about anything.
We don't know the reasons.
We don’t know
why we crossed that bridge.
We don’t know the other side.
But if you want to know,
really know a reason,
know it’s you, it’s me.
It’s them, it’s us.
It’s black, it’s white.
It’s good, it’s bad.
It’s back and forth
all the time.
It's an endless day.
Oh, it's an endless night.
Something in me
wants to rend
your mythology.
Something in me
wants to tear you apart.
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Jason Preu 
How intriguing! A good poem always ends on a left field note, such as this one. I love the last two lines:
“Something in me
wants to rend
your mythology.
Something in me
wants to tear you apart.”
And the metaphysical cyclical nature of the whole poem. Great write.
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Thank you for reading and commenting, Sunra!
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You’re most welcome!
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Did you mean “read your mythology”?
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No ma’am. Rend it apart, bit by bit.
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I did read it as rend! Then I wondered if you meant read. And now it feels carnivorous. It raises lots of questions. And reflects back at the reader their own nature. If you felt the ending was dark, for instance, that’s the reader tapping into their own darkness. I read it as passion. At least I hoped it was. Anyway! 😀 What I meant was I liked the ending, ha ha!
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