Debris
11:40 Mar 28 2006
Times Read: 624
The blood, the cells, the life that breathes in me; Only wants to be destroyed.
I inhale toxic fumes, noxious gasses, clouded debris, at my own pleasure... Only because it is solely through the destruction that I can attain the breath of life. I waste away, turn the page of a new day waiting to live again.
I'm stuck in a sea of solitude, a loathesome quandry of serenity; scanning the horizon for the mysterious lantern that will shine an eery, bright green beacon to herald my escape.
The chains that surround me, do not encapsulate me, instead they are paper "machete" bondings of my own brandings. I seek another world, but this other world is within me, clawing to get out.
I echo in haste's stead; Reverberate the numerology that promises a new dawn; but I as of yet have heard no answer to my call.
I sit protected by a shroud of chainmail fears listening for the clock to strike "one" or two;
Few, or many.
Whatever the clock strikes, for whomever the bell tolls, time still marches on.
I cannot harness a new day until I let go the old; the paper tigers that have come to pass, the envisionary smokescreen dreams that have wafted their whims over my senses and enslaved my visions of days to come.
I keep marching along; there is no drum, there is no spoon, there is no earth, there is no buoyancy, there is only the sound of the bat echoing in the night, reaching out for a companion that is aeons away.
And so I, like every other solidary being, long to be part of this eternal oneness to which we all inhernatly feel we belong; Yet we all miss it by an inch.
An inch. (What is that?)
An inch, a thumbnail, a fireflies' tail. The tale of so many who fall so short,
And here we stand;
Alone.
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