I feel a sense of abandonment, but i cannot find its source.
and i feel a sense of hatred, though that one i possibly understand.
Lost in my muddy thoughts and my nausea,
i feel as if i will never make it back to the surface of normality,
back to who i so certainly was,
who i so loved being;
the suit of skin i wore and felt so indestructible in.
i was walking through a forest of seaweed,
breathing water, breathing sand,
i was watching the sky move in a time lapse of beauty,
where the extensive amount of stars created a glow in the sky;
that of the horizon in the midday sun,
with an extra large moon hanging low and lucid.
everything was gigantic and proportionate.
Presently, I'm scrounging through trash cans
looking for scraps to live off of;
those little chunks of thought,
those moldy remnants of emotion,
the old perceptions I've learned to memorize for times like this;
i need time to see this through;
i need to crawl down this muddy wet tunnel once again;
face my demons,
fight them with sword or dagger;
ward them off with tongue or cogitation.
My own war,
my personal battle.
In time i will win,
with age i will prevail
this process will become antiquated;
thick dust that floats atop the streets.
For today,
i need to question myself,
for now,
i may just need to be left alone.
but intermittently, will you sit with me?
a shoulder to rest upon,
a hand to clutch.
A weekly intermission from my self focused dreams.
