From inside and outside the confides of my mind lie the coming of yet another fragile and fleeting experience that I have been called to take part of. It forces me to look deep inside, it forces me to gaze and gander at the fears, the insecurities, and loss and the love that I have both felt and held throughout the ages. This seat that I have been tightly strapped to plays it’s part ever-so consistently, for it knows what it wants from me, and I know what I want from it. Our desires have collided, inevitably in a clash of rebellion, stagnation, and a death that may not have ever been able to be avoided. I sit still in these moments, I feel what remains of the flames from day’s where shadows rose and burned, and from nights where longings grew strong and the strength to carry on grew weaker. Nights that were the origins to these darkest nights that I have come to know so closely now – nights that still make their way past me, hour by hour, even. The past seemingly haunts my every movement, it knows that I am fractured, a being living half-whole, a mind that has been split into several different pieces. The memories and the echoes of things that once were – always seeping their way through the seams of my own mind. The feeling of loss and the cycle of it, the state of lack and the suffering that comes with it, and the reality of stagnation and the amount of desperation and frustration it continues to build. These plagues and curses alike are what I have been met with within the seat, they call to me like daemons from above, beckoning, somehow always knowing what was and what will be.
I cannot outrun the feelings and the fear, for I now exist within a space where they are always near. I will always yearn for love for it has become the intangible and inanimate force that I can no longer hold – that I can no longer own. The yearning comes and goes, rises and falls like the tides with the darkened moons pull. I cannot mourn for these things in which I lack, for it has all been a part of the experience, this experience that has seemingly become more and more treacherous with each and every shift to this twisted reality, this reality of chaos and cataclysms and the coming of things that seek to bend and fold all that remains to it’s will. Like the end times, much is set to be revealed, our masks slowly but surely being removed from our faces and those like us – those like me, finally being seen from what they truly are. In fleeting and fragile time, where flames seek to consume before burning out, where the spiraling voids yearns to swallow, and where darkened pools dream to drown – I seek to evolve. To evolve in the palms of oblivion. To move through and within the depths where only the shadows and echoes reside – to rise from the dust before vanishing forever, in a time of crisis. Because after the burning heals, and after the fire dies; and once the darkened nights come to pass, and life continues on with i’s treacherous cycle – a new dawn will be born, a dawn that I can only ever dream to see, one that is further out of reach than you could ever currently know.
The emptiness that has become like a closest companion to me whilst strapped within this seat; during these moments that exist outside of the fates that were bestowed, out of reach from the dark-pool that devours, in a scape out of view from the lords and landscapes that once beckoned, not centered enough to reach the eyes of the in-between, far from the castles that once towered, more enclosed than the seemingly infinite plains, and more treacherous than the cavern walls that brought upon this all – has now evolved into something new yet unknown to me and has begun to reach out it’s hand. A hand that is darkened, worn, and boney in appearance, like the hand of a reaper that seeks to claim what it has stalked for many years. This unknown that I have stepped to, this unknown that I shall shake hands with is what lies within the day’s of ruin, the day’s where cataclysms and greater catastrophes seize all that I’ve ever known, and all that’s left is what is left to consume and what is left to mourn. A shriveled state of society, a fractured state of reality – beaming from it’s seems the glimmers and glimpses of a future that I can only dream to see. In these moments within the seat, I often ponder if what remains is truly worth my experiencing, is truly worth my witnessing. For I was once bound to the gentle, yet cold hands of death which sought to see my journey through, to see my passage safe and secured to my final breath. Fleeting moment after fleeting moment, I ponder if the decisions made were the correct one. For now with this phantom self, I am free from the contracts and promises that once bind, and no longer tied to some twisted sense of purpose for striving onwards. Each and every moment that has passed since the final fates has been as significant and insignificant as the other, each step that I have taken seemingly going nowhere, and each dream that I have dreamed fades further and further from my very reach.
Within the seat, what remains of my drifting mind is the desire to consume, and the desire to evolve. To take essence of what I am and what I have become to the next stage – if one is to even exist, or to cease this cycle all-together. The fading has long since taken it’s course, and it drains me from the inside out with every passing hour. The desire that burns my skin and the desire that burns from within are all that is left to me, for purpose and meaning have seemingly become forever lost, erased, left behind in a place of time that no longer exists, one that is so far out from my reach – that I cannot even fathom a reality anymore where I can incorporate it again as part of my own. I knew all to well what it would mean if I were to take hold of the shadows, to put an end to their devouring and free-flowing, to finally claim them as my own. I knew all to well what would happen the moment contracts and agreements expired, left not to be renewed. The duality of what I once known has now been skewed, etched into a fading memory from a time where I felt love, from a time where the emptiness seemed to be so far off-shore. But now as the winds of time take heed, and the violent waters send all that remains back to me, these toppling tides take hold, as I tremble at their wake – as they sweep in the emptiness once again, alongside them. When I close my eyes I can see the remnants of what could have been within those times, I can hear the echoes and whispers of the things I long so strongly for – denying me, destroying me. Like an ache that never goes away, it is as if there is nothing left for me – a knowing that perhaps I have always felt, a knowing that the times warned but I ignored as I tread through the lines that rest in-between.
The desire that stirs within me still, as I sit here strapped within the seat, a seat that keeps me pierced to this reality, pierced to witness what is to come during theses fleeting and fragile moments that final fates left behind – shall be the very expulsion of itself within what remains of these fading moments. An expulsion that will either bring about the demise of what I have become, or one that will see the birth of something new, a transitioning of the shadows and the echoes alike. Because it’s all so lovely in the dark, a place where I can pay the price for choosing to witness these ends, a place that offered to bring about a life that would ensure a slower fading than the quickly drowning and devouring of the dark pool. Times like these hold no consequence, for there is no longer a timeline to manipulate, but rather the fleeting ability to bring about a new one, or the ever-enticing will to not to. In my drifting mind I can count easily countdown the day’s till you’d forget me, like a number that’s always been so close to home – like a number looming from above, it’s place in the atmosphere only possible by the pull and emanation of the dark moon. The aura that these moments bring about is an aura of all the potential that has culminated over the years, for hauntings of my own shortcoming and all the things that were once lost shall never let my mind be at ease. I have perhaps accepted this as an inevitability, and now, a part of this ever fading reality that I partake in. I cannot be tempted to indulge in a path that has never resonated with me, for my very foundations have been rooted in the powers that I have sought, and the powers that I have obtained alone. But even now, I am nothing but a cell of what I used to be, and a glimmer of reality, one that I will surely never see.
The yearning to consume and to claim what remains of these shifting desires is all that this life has left behind for me. A passage through the ever-growing dark, a life without light beneath a seemingly black sun. One that whispers words of cataclysmic events, and an ungrateful universe. From the emptiness that consumes like the spiraling dark pool, to the seat that binds it all together – seeking to bring about what remains of this experience to the fold, I am no longer hesitant to the ride that lies forward. For purpose will never truly be found in a place of dying reason, and love will never be learned within hearts that were never built to truly comprehend it – and so I seek toward whatever is left feel, whatever is left to lose, whatever is left to gain. No matter what you might say, no matter what you might ask, I’ll take my truth and bury it along with the pain that claims me. You can watch me fall through the disintegrating lines that hold what remains of this fractured reality together, while I become whole again but at a cost of an experience that meets it’s end. My truth can be found dancing through the dark where the what remains of my life essence dwells, it’s eyes and mine fixated on the many outcomes and tragedies this experience has in store; minds locked on the hand of death which creeps it’s way through the seams where false light used to reach, darker dwellers and those alike – up here in the shadows, just watching the world fucking fall a part.
All sense of divine guidance and luck has long since abandoned me. For when you stray so far from the collective path, all that is left to guide is what you have become and those that follow. I won’t look back now, for I am reminded of the things that trail behind every time that I close my eyes, I know that whatever lies left of this process, of this experience, of this evolution – lies within the shadowed crevices’ of this fractured reality. Places that I once abandoned for a truth that was never my own, places that I left behind to turn eyes towards a future that belonged in the minds of everyone by mine; and so I’ll let this seat take me onwards into the deep and haunting beyond, cause it’s so lovely in the dark and it’s the consuming constant that I’ve always known, but never wanted to accept. It’s time has arrived, and it’s hand grips mine.
