Dripping with sarcasm, that’s where you will be once you come running back to me…
I am wistful…
I am the middle of a thought, the beginning long forgotten the end never to be obtained.
I am nothing, yet that is not true, only a partiality of one looming truth that takes unbearable amounts of time to ingest.
The decision has been made, who is the unmaker? Maybe I’m a lonely man… Wistful in the face of oblivion’s aftermath, peaceful between two bull horns striving to begin riving my flesh into pieces as if it were normal. Why does death grip your mind with unquenchable fear? Why do you question me in the most peculiar ways? Do you test my loyalty, test your merit esteemed in my eyes? Everything seems for naught. That I will go out today and come home tomorrow exactly the same person despite my eyes being a little wider and less beguiled by the world. Things come in clearer and clearer –though never will it be a glass pane to me- as I understand what I did not before and I continue to feed my comprehension. Despite this, from understanding I have not yet obtained ample wisdom -which is something I desire-. When it all fades away if I know not what to do with what I know, what is the purpose off knowing it at all?
Trace memories of what once was endures in fading shades of the color that portray the emotion and sensation they once bore, warped by the infallibility of my mind. I fear losing myself so I refuse to be. The paradox of being incapable of losing something you never acquire, but in refusing to gain it you lose so much more than having and losing. That is what I tell myself for I cannot fathom why my function continues to perplex me as my habits continue to dominate. Outside of distraction I feel like a shell with a looming ache deep-set in my core. So many questions refusing to be made known to the world, craving an answer that mere words could never satisfy. Do I lie or exaggerate… probably, but if it is not sharpened into anything less than that I have not yet learned to distinguish. Relinquish?
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