solisis

I live in a gurgling dimentia, you realize? This so called forn of elements bound by a gravitational noose left me suspended in awe of the profound lacking evident in most everything surrounding my also lacking-will-be-carcus. My only love remains the remains of my remnants. A charred picture that I swear burnt to ruin ny my menace of a gaze in constants over the past nine lives, a folded scarf now destroyable by toch as it erodes further in the felow ashes of my life captured in the once artifacts that I allowed to consume me and a music box that never played a thing as I was overtaken by the fear of breaking it with a single wind only to think now that I was gifted such things to remind me of a special person who once challenged the futility of my own me. An escape from reason and responsibility that I found and still find all too necessary to employ. One might make the fool suggestion that this is a time and place to build from ground zero and avoid the disaster of a soul trapped in the murk of an unheroic descention through the wallows of diseased anti-minds and red eyes watching from the comfort of their own cells, but ah, they would be mistaking this one of me to be a gladiator in the ring against a personal depression more fostered by me than the so called attempt at sustaining my very breath and life. I am no warrior, as you might have calculated. Only a shred off the burnt bark of a sulking dead willow in a bog of flies left chewing the rotted bodies of beasts killed only by the boredom of the ambience and nothing more. Sifting the ambers still warm from the dance and dodging the train of black smoke rising from the grave of my newlydead loved ones. All none of them. I suppose theres something beneficial about having nobody to hold at night. That is that you never have the fear of losing them or staring at their demortified balance in the sheets that became their slate colored slate, breathless and without wake, giving birth to the stain of blood on the floor where your heart, in its last leap, found its new home. I am in ruin, again, the billionth day in a row. To think this happened before I was never born. My own me, my own sick. My frag and sortie. This tragic spiral of nethervoid and ambula a gurgling dimentia, you realize.