Time and time again am I faced with the moments within this reality that solidify the truth of how things truly are during these day’s. All that has been lost has since stayed lost, all that was once tortured now stays traumatized, and all that has been erased – stays nonexistent within this plane of existence. I am no different, for each day that leads to a new year takes a piece of me that I will never get back, takes a piece of me that I am only left to remanence of – holding the absence ever-so closely to what was once my working heart. The time between these moments, and what is to come following the 10th sleep, which is to be followed by a blackness rising, so crucial to my emptiness, so crucial to my existence – is merely what can be produced by the ripples of the longings that I once had, and the remaining will of the flames that burn my skin. For in tandem, I know that they hold the potential to create about great things, but in this reality, in this moment somewhere across space and time, for me, the mechanical force of manifestation resides at an all-time-low. For I was never truly meant to continue onwards, for I was never truly meant to remain here, for half of me floats within the echoes forever – leaving what remains to be invisible and irrelevant to the naked eye.
There is tragedy afoot, and whilst the fear that once held close to me continues to be drained out by the darkness with each and every passing moment, I cannot help but feel anxious that what is to come will swallow up all that remains, leaving the flames to stake claim of what is left of me. During the darkest corners of these fleeting dawns, the day terrors that I face are of the glimpses of what is likely to follow, are of the glimpses of things that have been whispered to come throughout the many periods in time that I have been cursed with enduring. I cannot escape this twisted sense of reality, the October snow that preludes the late neon nights that are to come – existing only to light the path throughout the darkest nights, the pathway to the darkest end. I’d be lying to say that it does not still ache to see you wander, lost and alone, for all that was once true for you was nothing but a temporary holding period for a permanent lie. None of this makes sense, and none of it ever will, like a never ending nightmare, spiraling out of control, leaping between the bounds of fact and fiction – but we feel it all.
Though my final fates have been chosen – I still dream. Dream I do, during the darkest and coldest hours and nights you will ever know. And in these rare and fleeting dreams, I dream that this will all have to change someday. It absolutely must, one way or another. For while here I may be bound to the chains of fate, existence and the lack of manifesting will – but elsewhere I may be free once more. The thread that is dwindling time that we all have been given now grows thinner on this edge of mine, this edge of existence. For what lies both within and beyond the void remains to be ever-so enticing to me, like a shimmering darkness that dispels a sense of rest – a sense of promise that a new life will bring. We are a means to an end, a fleeting sense of purpose that has been forgotten by it’s manifestor; and in knowing this I seep into the darkness once more, a darkness from a different perspective, a darkness through phantom eyes, for in this darkness I have been taught that a new life is a new perspective – it will allow me to break free from the final fates that have been bound to me, the ultimate sacrifice. So now watch me burn & let me begin anew….and let me control my destiny.
