All my destinations lead to fate, while all my visions seem to lead to tragedies with echoes and whispers still speaking of greater castles and sanctuary’s – I know stepping into the state of these convulsions is almost akin to breathing in the fleeting moments of taking a first breath. In thinning times like these I find it harder and harder to feel alive while what remains of this reality stays gripped in the palms of fractured time, yet even now I allow myself to still linger, like even more so in a phantom state – whilst I try to find some sense of grace.
I lie to myself and say that I remain ignorant as to where this is all headed, would be yet another lie to lay among the rest which gather and compile, coming together as one in closeness in a much more intimate sense. Like an orgy of false pretenses, I look upon that as they seek to caress me and claim me as their own, my flesh like some sort of prized possession, and my very sanity like a trophy. But I only stare back, but with a blackened gaze behind my eyes, for even now the fruition of fates that patiently await see through me, and they no that no longer do I remain in a state of war or running away like I may have once been.
Because while time like this very line in which I tread on now has long since begun to fade – I know that in essence I cannot be saved. So I look upon the greying horizon in a newer sense of melancholy, while the flashes of loss and what was once loved blink in and out of existence in the blackened corners of my mind. But much worse things are upon us than what I can can conjurer up from the void between my flesh and blood – for no scars I can hold nor those that are to come can compare to the gaping wounds of this reality that have begun to cause it to seize and convulse in a state even too violent for the darkened eyes.
