In a wakeful contradiction,
It lays fact between my fiction.
Tangling subatomics,
It unravels, as its tricks spin
Deeper, toward the outward . . .
It won’t let up,
Until I give in.
Over matter, lay my mind . . .
I tell a lie to pass the time . . .
But there’s no reason nor a rhyme —
Less still, a purpose?
I search for something
To remind my mind
That there is truth,
That isn’t worthless.
But as always, failure appears
In a sort-of amnesiac continuity,
And my reality lies to my own mind,
Just as well
As it succeeds in its futility.
With destruction as its manifest,
It tells me that I stand my tallest
Upon two buckled knees.
Just as faith will find one’s doubt —
A search within has left without.
It seems that an answer, once sought out,
Will be left lacking its question.
My truth divides itself,
As the product
Of infinite misdirection.
I try to substitute a reason, for a rhyme.
But with no lies left to pass the time . . .
I swallow a dose of ignorance.
It goes down
Smoother than the truth.
In a war that started with a truce,
This world betrayed my faith
To show me:
That I'm only tall enough
Once I’ve been
cut
down
slowly.
A pill too large to swallow,
I think I’m choking on myself
Or the irony of asking,
“How could I be so careless?”
Here I stand, Barely standing,
Consumed almost entirely
By my own dry-heaving self-awareness
Each night I am left to fight the fears
That my nightmares create;
I’m still running from my past,
Yet, haunted by my fate.
They walk beside me always,
Shadowing wholeheartedly —
They exist as a duality,
Both “apart from,”
And “a part of” me.
In truth,
These ghosts have taught me very little,
Aside from what I hate.
But, I've come to learn, not to fear
The forceful hands of fate.
For, I shudder not, at the thought of destiny,
Or the inevitable in time . . .
Instead, I fear the eventuality of the choices
That were solely,
And entirely, mine.
I fear that my will may be
Of enough influence, alone . . .
That fate itself may collapse
Beneath decisions like my own.
Or that I, myself,
Might be constructing
What destruction I will find
Among my shattered spirits
And convictions,
In these depths, to which I climb.