kyusss

Two feet and a heartbeat...
Burnt into my mind so that whenever I succumb to that dank hole behind me and I wonder how I could go on...I refer to the aforementioned.

"Who am I but my reflection." - (Maynard James Keenan always says it best.)

In this world full of ups and downs, it's the way I get back up that lessens the fall. Yet still I long for...cannot fill this space. Cannot keep the pace with the thoughts that pull at my lip. That heavy my lids.

So I walk, I ponder and pine. Cast off my shadow, it burdens me. Yet it is stuck to me, still a part of me. It is under my foot, therefore I own it. So I am better than it. Am I? Sometimes.

My voice was never loud enough, and so my reflection weak. Nevermore. Nevermore.

I am the web, the spider my world. Weaving me, unwinding and re-spinning me. Depositing flies onto me. If I could release myself to the wind, I could purge myself of the carcasses, and find a quiet place to rest. The spider could weave another, and I would be forgotten.