Always just seems to encompass so little now a days. like forced nevers that started out strong but ended up limping out the mouth. making every time after falling short of the finish line, crutchless and wounded. turning the next encounter to reruns that have burned itself into view of the latter. Passively predicting the loop but doing little to alter the fateless. because popcorn needs to eaten just as shows are made to be watched. we are all tuned to the same channel, just in different brightness settings. then given the option to search for the remote control that will remain absent. we're told that the search will bare  the fruit desired. and even though it is common knowledge now as to where the path leads and ends. for it was thine own ****** hand that placed the final stone. a ******* in the making. for the only other word to describe such behavior Is insanity. whether it is a question or a statement is beyond the threshold of what im willing to spend time thinking about. even though my thought process is rarely my own and i wouldnt really call us friends either. for if my thoughts betray me why would i give others a privileged that i am not qualified to give away. was there a day in my in my redacted childhood that wont raise its hand when i do roll call. one that warned me, trained me even to Not react but preemptively parry the blows that i would soon take full force. Pretending that its the smoke caressing and constricting the lungs and not the constant sucker punch to the only blind spot left. at this point, neglect works just as well as chasing an unattainable figment. that in my opinion. is far too real and even less tangible.

I sit quietly to myself.
Making note of each event.
With every passing inscription.
It gets easier to watch.
The world seems between us.
When we promised the stars to one another.
And as they began to fall from that very sky.
We were surprised.
Bewildered.
Devastated.
The bones have healed wrong.
Adding more and more scar tissue ever night.
Some have even gathered to witness this last dying wish.
It seems to dangle in the sea of the forgotten.
We look so much more now that there isn't anything to see.
Hoping that something will revesere.
Grant us a version of some revision that was thought of so many dawns ago.
Except now.
Thoughts of such rarely seem plausible anymore.
I am just a scribe.
One to take note of all that was supposed to be.
Observer what is.
And weep for what will never be.
Spending too much time.
On mismanaging it.
That all I am.
Is another ghoul.
Haunting a stranger's timeline.

Where exactly.
To what end.
For whom.
Rhetorical or not.
The questions stand like.
Like the rest of the monotonous.
In lines.
Guided by carpet and cards alike.
Strung about the strung out.
As if the norm.
Was within the crystal ball.
Answers that seemed to ring from nowhere.
Cascaded through the crowd about.
Faster than one would realize.
Before.
Less of what was.
Emerged into a plague of sorts.
Where sense and logic seemed more seance than the latter.
If only emptiness.
Knew pain.
Pity.
The world found another,
to consume.

It happens.
Past any point that any would ever.
Imagine.
Through.
Over.
Inside.
Burned.
And bruised.
Broken.
So broken.
But then.
One must break.
To find.
Exactly.
What fits.
In such a way.
In only one way.
Something that doesn't hold with tape.
Or glue.
Nor a day.
Or two.
And once together.
Regardless of the hardships felt.
There is only momentum to gain.
For when all the pain is in the past.
These eyes can finally open.
And these once twisted paths.
Have never been more clear.
For.
I.
Me.
Know which one I am destined to walk.
And I know.
With whom
I will walk it with.
No matter what it was that we thought.
We stand here now.
Atop the mountain.
Ready.
To take this plunge.
And when I wake.
Will this dream.
Be the reality.
That I will forge.
With this hand.
And hammer.
You brought us back from the brink...
....
And I.
I will keep us from it.
Forevermore.

There is always something to have come.
Before.
Some rule.
Unspoken knowledge.
Common supposedly.
Is there a way to hear the whispers.
When your the one screaming.
But this facade can only contain desables.
Unattainable.
So many believe.
The vast majority relinquish it.
Like a ***** penny.
Too overused to even see the year.
And forgotten.
Just another piece to be tossed.
But should it find its way into the pool of eternity.
Would it be too greedy.
To shine once more.
Be reminted.
Reclaimed.
But like so many.
Do they find themselves.
Spent.
Wasted on a wish.

i light the match.
consume what is now my best friend.
the simple burn.
gives way to complicated thoughts.
a chemical conversation.
one that always leads nowhere.
yet everywhere at once.
i exhale slowly.
he slowly follows suit.
he seems to be the only one ever present.
he seems to be the only constant.
and i seem to be turning to him more than ever.

Force.
Nothing.
And naught prospers.
Yet add the slightest amount of anything.
Does everything seem to fall that much.
Faster.
The sacred walls it seems.
Have paper like qualities.
Without the writing.
All the actions used for good.
Only spurred the opposition.
Riding at the coat tails of hope.
Or so one would think.
But it was only misfortune.
Masquerading.
Dazzling sight with flashy distractions.
Reveling in each illusion campaigned.
It would seem it's ploy was discovered some time ago.
But not all parties were aware.
Allowing the innocent means.
To be fooled.
The kind that make others feel sorry for.
Because of how oblivious.
One can truly be.