sleep on the floor, dream about me
this pulse is broken, pitters and patters led astray. get weaker weekly in denial of malfunction. puncturing in the name of pathology and beginning to wonder if, just as pain, desire and disease are just constructs of my brain, built to defend against the misplaced malice of my world. blurred and burning, vision eludes me. what then, when the heart and eyes fail. when you cannot see or stride, or pull out from the inside. make a mantra of His provision and peace, pull together the shards of hope and look blindly in the direction of happy. as if that is was even slightly what this life were about.
there must be a crack in this wall, a secret passage i subconsciously left for myself. through the fog of cynicism there had to be a freckle of light, something buried deep telling me to leave an escape route. there is no rewind, no fast forward, no pause, no stop. only a play. only ever just a play. so figure out the play. figure out the way. figure the way out.