A Reflection on the Remaining Fragments of a Recovering Psyche

i. how?

this exoskeleton has grown so rigid,

so impossibly stubborn that it can not be maneuvered!

suffocation(and therefore death;

it

typically,naturally follows)is imminent.

we've no choice now

but to wait

for the darkness.

ii. and then?

cracking,along the spine.

wallpaperskin begins to peel,to curl

away from the soft pink underneath.

a wiggling finger,a vibrating toe.

darkness has not yet

won.

iii. something like?

rejuvenation. rekindling.

arduous symphonies sing of the

rediscovered tombs

from days past,

glorify the freedom felt and

understood from

sarcophagi which were too small for

the most compact of

bodies.

iv. but after?

a touch. a kiss. a flittering

of lashes against

dewey skin.

like enzymes and substrates,

locking and keying,

exhausted bodies collapse

onto one another,

fueled and masked by the

laborious breathing

of lungs and diaphragm

grappling desperately for oxygen.

v. and all for?

a moment.

that moment.

unification, completeness.

press closer, harder,

but to no avail,

for even "together"

is never quite

close enough

for me.

And Then The Synapses Misfired and Things No Longer Make Sense

swarms of sleeping larvae are writhing in this fleshcase, gently reminding that existence continues, even if apparent life does not. sleeping forever, after all, is hardly a punishment. gather up the twilight-haze and tie it with an atropa belladonna bouquet, so innocent and explosive in its deadly deception.

lavender poisons the air as lips whisper unheard words to a far-off ear no one can see. but not even the most powerful of ear trumpets, as far as it will burrow, can amplify the sound.

the toxic mist moves in like a silent stampede, and, much to the terror of the unknowing masses, brings apathy wherever it goes.

The Human Race of Nesting Dolls

We are hauntingly capable of so many things.

Regeneration, compassion, kindness, love, healing, invention, discovery.

Anger, hatred, murder, apathy, disdain, selfishness, greed, pride.

Constantly grappling over Jekyll and Hyde. Can they co-exist in some twisted form of harmony? Or will anger always try to kidnap happiness, covering its head in a burlap sack? Will hatred always try to deceive and turn compassion, willing it to ignore someone in need?

It is no wonder we spend our lives searching, wandering, looking for some semblance of peace.

We are but a collective, chaotic chorus of screaming demands, each trying to be heard above all the rest, each trying to reign supreme.