Rearranging essence.
On a thread without a grip. I slip and dive into a crevice in the walls of desire I cannot reach or have. My mind is ablaze, no water can quench the flame.
Who is? What is? Where is? My questions do not cease. No answer is present.
I see the shadow of a hope lingering beyond ability and yet the goal seems so obvious and easy to achieve. The end eludes me.
Wanting you with every fiber of my essence and the voices cry, “In time…” but I have waited a thousand years in a weeping pause of bursting sadness. Waiting in a concrete playground full of grown children there is no glowing rest.
Barbed chains eat me with contempt and mocking.
Escape is only greeted with compounded fleeing and an endless monotony of derelict paranoia.
I have no repose.
What am I but a pieced together gamble of ideas derived from input designed to corrupt or control? Some doctrine or handed down tool programmed to direct my thoughts, determine my outcome.
