You did this,
how dare you bend what you knew would break?
and I simply cannot rest anymore.
this can’t be what minds are made for;
to scream and wonder and yell and knock,
to pinch and prod and snicker and rot.
And although I know
that sentience is a pendulum
that rocks and sways,
it seems there is a constant,
one thing that doesn’t go away.
For though my mind
will refuse to dwell,
will repress any memory (lest it begin to swell),
there is a constant,
a pesky remain,
it is my hand
— which continues to shake.
Down where my thoughts come to me in waves; smooth and coarse, gentle and turbulent. I’ve never felt lonelier, I’ve never feared myself more. I’ve never respected my right to be as much as I have been lately. I find shelter under the open sky, refuge in the emptiness that suffocates me. And I just wanted to tell someone about it– about the beauty, about the pain, about the nothingness that stitches it all together. I am here, nowhere, and I wanted to ask you about whether or not that was okay.
I guess things happen, and our interpretation of the world around us is nothing more than a mirage stemming from the universe inside us; we see what we want to. And whether we are whole or broken or dust or fire means nothing to anyone else and their reality. I am alone, you are alone, and I don’t think it helps that we face each other as we live in our loneliness. You cannot penetrate my mind unless I allow you to, only I live here. Only I live here.
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