Flames of Delirium 

So far I’ve come, since I first started, since I first lost myself

I’m still lost, but that’s not the point anymore, is it?

Because what does it matter, whether I find my way or become further entangled in the maze I fashioned once in a dazed state? 

You know me now 

And although I rest at the very bottom of the forgotten pile of fleeting thoughts at the back of your mind, 

I suppose I’m satisfied. 

And let me tell you something, something I’m not sure I understand myself yet, at least not in its entirety 

Satisfaction is not what I imagined it to be. It is, if anything, even more empty and unbecoming than the chase, for it begs that sharp, painful question–what now?

A question that brings with it, quite inconveniently, a battery of still more difficult questions: Where do I go? What do I do? Who do I become? Who am I, really?

Because the truth is, I don’t know. I didn’t know then and I don’t know now. And I don’t think I’ll know even when I’m close to the end, whenever that is, however that is. And maybe all of this was just a distraction my mind dreamt up to keep me from seeing how lost I truly was, and now I know again. 

But I can’t trivialize you like that, can I? You were, you are, important to me. You, or my truth of what you are and what you mean to me, taught me how to revere, how to admire and cherish for its own sake. You taught me how to believe, how to hope for something I knew I could never have and persevere in spite of that knowledge. You taught me, I think, how to love.

Maybe that’s why I’m having such a hard time letting go. Maybe that’s why I never really can. Because how can I release back into the universe what I found in its deepest hidden crevice when I most needed it, when I was so close to losing any hope I might ever have to find a reason to smile as wholeheartedly as you made possible, and wonder. 

Yes, you made me wonder. You made me pause, and think, and question everything I’d previously accepted as fact without taking the time to observe it objectively. You made me curious and excited, and dimmed my senses just enough so that everything else would seem brighter. 

So it doesn’t matter to me that this fire you ignited once inside me was burning for the sake of distracting me from my inability to piece myself together. It doesn’t matter that the fire serves no purpose anymore and that anyone in their right mind would know that the time has come to put these fiery flames to rest. It doesn’t matter that I’m supposed to be satisfied, because I’m not, because I’ll never be, because I’m human. 

So stay with me, now and forever. Invisible to them, here, by my side, inside me. You are my strength, and you are my weakness, and anything else I am remains in between. 

You are as real as the flames you are represented by, the ones that will burn on for eternity, if I have any say in the matter 

You are here, you are always, and you are mine

It doesn’t matter that you don’t really exist.

Viri-descent

Everything hurts.

Shattered bones further disintegrate, until they form a powdered ash of pain

boiling in the cauldron, I lean over and allow my tears to fall in,

Further add a lock of hair from the Mistress of Folly

Now I sigh in it

It bubbles over, ghastly green

I pour it into a glass, which shatters from the heat

I consume it all, the mixture, the shards of glass

I deserve this pain, I’ll make it last

I transform, finally, as I was always destined to

Into the thing I once adamantly proclaimed to hate the most

Unkind, selfish, stubborn, alone,

I regurgitate my heart and see it writhing on the floor

until it stops moving once and for all

I compose myself and gaze into the looking glass,

What once was innocent, shall never be again.

Sway of the Pendulum 

Forgetting what it feels like to believe in magic 

To have hope 

To have faith 

To have the will to continue to live 

For the sake of it 

Because the beauty in that is evident

Because we have the ability to 

Forgetting what it feels like to want to 

To have aspirations beyond what is necessary 

Beyond what is plain 

Beyond what is easy

I am crumbling 

From the inside out 

I am perishing 

What I was is not what I am 

What I am 

Is gone 

The Reluctant Existenialist Δ

It was almost as if it didn’t matter– yes and no began to mean the same thing. A nod in approval or a shake in denial, a smile in favor or a creased forehead in strain…each of these gestures were useless and of equal importance in their rivaling inadequacy. I suppose some humor may be extracted from this instance of absolute irony. 

Whichever decision is made, however much time is taken to make it, whoever is involved in such a process, what does it really matter? In the end, the outcome shall be. And while it may be different from any other that might’ve occurred had there been a slight alteration in the sequence of events that preceded its birth, worrying about what might be seems as fruitless as dawdling on what could’ve been. 

Troughs of Melancholy 

Back to what I felt before

Back to what I felt, I’m sore

To feeling useless and cruel

Feeling like nothing matters

Back to feeling like there’s no point

Like everything’s happening

But there’s no point

Because nothing can be what I want it to be

But that’s okay, I don’t deserve that anyway

Back to knowing that ache inside

The one that wrenches my guts all night

The one that numbs me to the pain

Of everyone but myself

Back to being selfish and unreasonable

To being broken and unsure

Back to knowing I never changed

I’m just more sure of my inadequacy than before