. .



archives

Tuesday, September 27, 2005
 
The sickness of monotony grips like a rot through my brain.

It feels as through something dull and heavy scrapes me from the inside out, taking everything that remain.

The headaches becoming more and more potent.
Persistent.

Through my young life I very rarely ever had a headache.

Now the feel of them makes me ill.

I wish for a moment to be held until it goes away.

Such a desire only makes me weaker knowing nothing will come.

I am weak and have deteriorated over time.

I have nightmares of my mother, the one person I have ever dreamed about that has made me cry out in anguish in my sleep.
The one person I’m unsure of why I dream of so much lately.

So weak.

My body at such unrest.

I’m afraid and lacking in near everything.

The passion, the zest and what little shining strength I had in my youth suddenly vaporized.

No amount of sleep or food or drink could ever replenish.
No amount of solitude or freedom or fresh air.

I’ve lost the ability to care for anyone.

I feel useless.

I fear my mortality and with great depth I feel the tug of the end of the rope.
I fear I have been for nothing and left nothing and have been nothing but some failed test.

Shallow, useless proof of those who have descended as much as I have.

Those who shed their wings and are violently ripped apart as mortality spreads through them.

Those who sink low into the water and will never surface.
Never breathe the pure air.

The gift.
The curse.

What does the great god do with the failed experiments?
The muddled light that soils the earth?

What is in store?

What will I become?

And who will be left in the wake of the fires I leave behind?

Will I ever feel the strength and love once bestowed in me,
That comes from someone else?




ColonPipe
Hyper Buddha
Gorgissum
Haiku
Knock on the >>Sky
Ebbles Miniatures