All the brittle, shining facets of my life-lived past now gone-- these memories of fleeting exhilaration and brilliant truths that fuel my hope and faith of what’s to come-- at times feels only like a baroque-bludgeoning… an endless, recurring soul-bone bloodless death by bittersweet.
I feel trapped within a file cabinet of perpetual possibility steeped solely from intuition’s eye, confused and distracted by the plausible machinations of my inner mind, driven wild by subtle vein-visions that can never be attracted or attained.
And it saddens me, to think that my real life holds very few actual moments of poignant joyful substance, that the only tangible, rejuvenating happiness I feel is through an illusory dream-state, induced and seduced by something I feel and know exists but can never taste, yet somehow recall ingesting.
A dessert-ghost haunts the shell of my conceptual existence, reducing my experiential palate to nothing more than a muddled blur of dark grey metal chocolate. An intoxicating cognitive bane...the blight of being...the dusk of becoming...the limpness of light in the lull of love.
Mere residue lines these licked-clean infinite storage capsules in my mind. Resin for inspiring the bow that loosely holds my chords of sanity intact, until the melody of the sirens' call begins again its dance.
And I’m entranced.
