I seethe within what echoes disdain for all things wanting, because I can't seem to keep what's there to begin with

The desire to purge prior prose and start from scratch beseeches my mind to scrawl what dire nuance calls my name, but I don't look it in the eyes

It's my demon; my voice that resonates deep within; the call of all things mired by fate-less whispers of what's more, or right

But I know, it can't be how I desire. What can be will only come when time sets right the means to seek it out; to reach for whatever may be reaching back at me

I can't move forward unless I know for certain what's there would not bring more desolation. I am a coward, but am I human? I ask myself that every waking moment

I crave nothing more than to be normalized and reverberate with twining string of fate that actually calls my name, not the sour tones of dissonance and disdain as before

I crave reality to be my own, rather than reality to own everything I can not

I seek, eternally.. I find nothing but light that touches the surface, but never does the sun actually rise.

Bring me to my own horizon, bring me fate, bring me peace..

I hope..