Exploring Without A Purpose Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

Searching for the words, do they just come?
Like a secret admirer, I keep wishing for more.
A teasing taunting.
Poking at the gritty sand that sits beneath my feet.
What is this?
How do I use it to the best of my abilities?
How do I present the problem as I see it?
With wanting of questions so eloquent put.
Hand over mouth and quickly insert the foot.
A sliver of the grasping.
A feeling of everlasting.
Bathing in the sunny and abrupt sensation.
Where did this come from?
I though I drew the short straw.
A good for nothing.
Falling into a bottomless pit.
But if it has no ground, then how can it be a true fall?
It should hurt, but instead I'm floating through these misty clouds with a sting of being.
Useful, but to what ends?
With purpose, is the closed door and I'm knocking, I'm beating as I never did before.
Looking into the depths of my erie and somewhat forgotten soul.
Yes I have one, but how much is left is the question?
It feels dank damp and full of so much rot.
Is there anything that can amount to something.
It matters and yes I do care I'm just not sure if the effort given will even matter.
Futility is where my heart sleeps.
And I'm trying to wake it up.
But is it to late?