blueimber: (Default)
[personal profile] blueimber
truths always feel more painful after we have let them stretch for the rare occasion-
we erect simpler truths to illustrate the world as full of hope
then are crushed under the weight of the fact that the more complicated truths;
the truths by implication-
the truths known so well by the heart that they ought to always be rote
all of these-
knock the simple truths into seeming lies.

and in thus we gain the knowledge that we lie to ourselves.

truth is ever evolving;
undoing itself as it further defines itself.
much like
any person.

there still feels to be a great hole inside of me-
i had wanted to escape-
((there was not a flock of birds present to help...))
and for a heartbeat logic almost circumvented the securities i have wrapped myself in
for so long...
circumstance presented an argument and
as i realized the consideration-
shut myself down immediately;
avowing no abuse.

i didn't want to face 31-
it was a hard week
and has set up several hard weeks before me-
i honestly do not want to face any of them
but i am screwing my heart to the sticking place
and desperately telling myself that things are aright in the world 
even if it feels as if we are dying;
as if there is no longer air to breath
or hope
of future purposes.

i give all i am
as often as i find chance
and still within it i find myself
in the truth of my continued solitude;
an open, weeping wound
the heart upon the sleeve
the promises heard in 'hello's
the muscle memories only 
of passions once felt;
long grown cold now.

it hurts to know i place my heart so thoroughly into each thing i have done
so much deliberate love
to see now that none of it really mattered
it was temporal, 
forgotten once received;
the illumination failed to either inspire or transfer;
it simply ceased to be;
went out in a puff of smoke;
the blink of the eye;
breathed in all in one moment; useless upon exhalation 
and of no more note
those granted things
which even when gone
are not missed.

the logic here instates that
forms of escape
of running
are useless too;
it whispers to me of the insurmountable;
with repulsive thoughts
of this continued struggle;
and bows in abeyance
the selfish

i believe my hour upon the stage
has not yet come to pass
and therefore
will suffer these failures to launch;
the bottomed out hopelessnesses
and the persistent heartbreaks-
until such a time
as it graces me-
and shall just have to live for now
in hope
of when this will all cease.

September 2017

171819 20212223

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 20th, 2017 08:03 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios