The pulsating loneliness of reality in the flesh haunts me like the ghosts of my other selves.
Who am I in this moment and how will I choose to show it?
The constant motion of life paves the way to a grasping of something more.
Fleeting emptiness is always shattered by a falling leaf.
How can I sit here and not be effected by the push and pull of humanities breath?
How to be stoic when I am but a cloud of dust on the open plains?
The instant you choose to bare all in transparency, you find out there is nothing there.
Now to live with that as if everything were fine.
Walk the long road to your current location and be disappointed when its not what you expected it to be.
Hold us down with flesh and blood till it rots away and takes with it your sense of identity.
Embrace myself as the stagnating pool of emotions that I am, and ***** the symbols of sounds I hear in my head, into existence on a creased piece of paper.