Unsound transitions and the threat of broken promise hover like dying mayflies. God, I hate that incessant buzzing… make it silent.
I lack reassurance in a world where I’ve been forced into a cycle of digression and isolation in order to retain the smallest iota of peace. When everything around me fails, composure is all I can fall back on in effort to merely remain sane in the chaos.
How can one truly accept an opportunity to escape when there is no ability to cease even the predictable tidal changes that when left unattended, abandon their ebb and flow and undulate into voids of despondency. Tangible as smoke… my flailing is ineffectual and grabbing a hold is nothing more than futile.
I am a mess of contradictions. Change yet remain unchanged.
Those with their self proclaimed wisdom and states of proposed enlightenment give me hope.
Their lives written in stanzas of nescience and pretension.
Spilling their proposed truths and realities, thick as blood flowing through waste encrusted arteries.
The epitome of all that suffocates. Without them, existence is uninspiring. I seek, not to rise above, but to never accept a reflection of myself within these vagrant mirrors.
Meandering in and out of our inadvertent circles, the linear path is my ivory tower. My way out of redundancy. Away from languid smiles, and all that perpetuates my mental decomposition. Creative destitution is imminent when trapped in cycles where the only end involves devouring and regurgitating the beginning.