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, 'til 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’s truth that isn’t worthless…
But as always, failure appears;
in a sort-of amnesic 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.
And 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 a 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
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...
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 —
Existing as a duality, both apart from,
and a part of me.
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.
Bad Luck: In A Wakeful Contradiction :