Themes of my former self are beginning to arouse my brain yet again.
States of dark discomfort are starting to show themselves as beacons of light in this strange season.
Possibly to save me from an emptiness much worse than their own,
Or possibly because it is the price I must pay for trying to rid them from my mind like the body does toxins.

I feel their cold nails ripping into my head,
Running a frozen drip down my spine.
They feast on my self-esteem,
And leave a haze on my judgment.
The days consist of fear and emotional turmoil,
At night, I only hope to make it to the next day.

I find it incredibly horrifying to say,
but I am not entirely resistant to this chaos.
Once they arise, I voluntarily retreat into their catacombs.
They act as a guide through the months of frozen life and tell me I must feel their pain,
That it is wrong for me to feel anything else.
Am I weak for succumbing to the torture they force upon me?
Is it insane to find small comforts in their twisted reality?

Surely, my dear friends, I know the answers.
I beg of you please, do not worry about my safety.
Come the days that thaw my bones,
I will be free once again.
I will have survived, as I always have before.

Tears grow heavy as you watch all that you once were begin to rust away.
You do not feel sadness,
but nostalgia,
as clouds containing past lives and past loves circle the space around your head,
Screaming in your ears.
However, you know that becoming a new bundle of energy and knowledge is a great expedition you must embark on by your lonesome, without distraction of any sort.

Those dust-covered shoes struggle to comply at first,
But without any other hesitation,
you set off towards a door that has now made itself known.
With a hand pushing through,
you turn to look at the carcass of twisted memories and,
not knowing if this is directed towards yourself or maybe something bigger than that,
you ask aloud,
"please, tell me before I go, who was this one? This time around, who was I?"

I want my love for myself
To overflow
And I want my overflow of love
To seep over onto you
But for now
My cup is empty
And maybe you can sense
That I have nothing to offer you

How can emptiness be so heavy?

From the beginning, a trillion little atoms
Always moving, finding their place
Responsive, but not sentient

The flowers of life, the fruit as well
A window into all of us, all of this
Holy, but not indestructible

A yellow primary, each head spinning along underneath
Warming the structures - steel, wood, and bone
Magnificent, but too far to reach

The world full of beauty, only known to the willing
Opening the paths, walking the doors
Endless, but almost forgotten

Walking forward, each of us beaming
Since the day is long, crisis comes on its own time
Anticipating, but not hesitant

A creation so significant, letting one roam free
Glimpsing endlessness, those who use it
Unbreakable, but not against itself

A man aware of his own existence, a coward
Still securing his fate, a fraught afterthought
Responsive, but no longer sentient

Growing the land on which I have stayed for years, the drought has finally ended
Carved in the passing thoughts of mortality,
I can finally free myself from the future,
And the life I have studied much too often
My friends,
My love,
I can be everything I want to be now