What came about in a time of wandering. The consolation getting me by was knowing it would end, I could go back I could go back to how it was I could go back to how it was when I remember happiness I could go back to how it was when I remember happiness although the time, then, was not. Coming home to where I am safe and where I can be anywhere but here.
I got by in dreaming of stories to tell that reflect where I have been, where a path of solitude crossed theirs and voice where I fear most in going. I busied my mind in the folds of the concepts, and I was not afraid. I came to where I knew I would but still I can't stop wandering. The house is here, and I am inside but both of us are empty. I know the stories that haunt these halls even though I could lose my mind entirely wondering what they mean.
Is it common Am I lazy Am I standing in a place that never existed and if I exist
why.
I am losing the grip of whatever it is that actually cares to know, if even anything is worth knowing. Insight recognizes a pattern I never will find where it is I am going. I ought to just stay here, soon it will be snowing. I'll wait here.
Closed off, abandoned, derelict, haunted DANGER: DO NOT ENTER you are unwanted. I guess let it collapse on its own; we can't pay for demolition faster than natural decay.
If you visit it is to test the structural integrity, else to marvel at what could have been, pontificate upon why she is what is left. Or theft.
I wish I could collapse into myself to be consumed within the black hole in my chest, so that my lifelong companion, loneliness, cannot follow. It is where it is nothing and where nothing may follow as a guest.
Written 9.15.15 Rediscovered while trapped away from home overnight, by the wrath of merciless El Nino