This temple is an unrecoverable abyss of despair. I have reached a place where there is little enchantment with life. Cunning death, the only untouched fruit, would taste like nine sweet apples to my tongue.
No one knows I am here and my child is the only soul who would notice my untimely departure. Would she cry into her pillow or would she mourn me little and be more complete without my incompleteness in her life?
I altered myself in such a way that I lent the complete illusion of fluid logic to the scattered beast that is my fucked up existence. It's purposeless. My accomplishments are ripped away like my very soul is obsolete and untraceable.
I walk normally, I drive by all the stupid rules, but as an entity I am unruly and eternally on a course of death. In him my dreams are all repressed. He has a way with his lies. I kept my mouth mostly shut and sewed my funeral dress.
How much longer will God keep me here? I am a maid to misery. No friendships to speak of to thee, although I try to be as friendly as I can possibly be...
To every passing soul, they all toss a waning wave, say a quick hello and then blaze waywardly into the mirage of time with more important places to go. Am I not a place? What nerveless little of a location do I know? To me I am home, these doors will never close.
How can all of these people just congregate and converse like everything is fine? They're all frauds. People you see everyday, people you think are humble are arrogant in secret. People you think are kind, say the most hateful, unflattering things behind your back. As children we are enthusiastically introduced and thrust into this society, as if it's some spectacular place to be or grandiose rite of passage to discover sex and drunkenness. It's not. It's a sentence to be owned by urge and thirst alone. Then we are expected to give what little money we have to a system that is utterly broken and angularly parasitic and uphold some kind of fucking suave tea party in the process, making small talk all the while just to fill the emptiness within us. It's all just a a giant cross, even these personal relationships that are not personal. No. People become more impersonal and self-centered by the day, they are but thorns and nails. It's an opportunity not to thrive and find some kind of harmony or deliverance, no. We are granted a chance to be born and executed in this way, to be examples of what power does to rebels who speak with God's audacity, we are undermined by all of the people we seek to spare and free, we are captive to these terms of instability and incompetence. Liberty has come and gone and shall breathe again only when you are dead.