On the firs day of the fifth month, day one of the second third, of the first quarter of the third recorded mellinia. I dwell here thinking back and fourth- reflecting on all the experiences… This is my  final creation  beneath this ceiling, within these walls, with this recording of the soul, curated and confessed privately for  , the few things I need you to know are to be transferred here
From thought to word and now digital marks, the instinct of reason and rhyme- how one’s truth informs each headless heart, and anothers every heartless mind.
I see and hear and give the space, needed to deflate- the de’coupage of camouflage in which  I’ve been disguised. The two years that you’ve known me, have made up the decade’s end
the ten years which I’ve been told to skip
over me and my past’s relationship
& retain the hope, doubtlessness’s equipped
to embrace me as I lose the grip that, just like the silhouetted shadow’s tip
I leave here. I leave behind. I leave today

& wont return.
You know things about who I am, that no one else might understand
From how I think and feel and speak, the things that make me truly weak
My disordered mind and damaged bones
The songs that hold me in their tones.

But to give up and in uncertainty's dismay, not to forget or out loud to say- these words which are, in a way, a goodbye; immortalized here and then within the minds eye, they enter your fortress, citadel cerebral- to despite all we are, entwine good and evil.
Evil me and good for you, goodness dictate’s patient virtue.

What would you like? Was the question I asked
To the person lying in what once was my past
Can it potentially, ever last?
I'll dictate instead of typing This fast

An easier way to communicate to
The thoughts and the Feelings that make up virtue
I'm saying this here for me and for you
though you've no idea, not even a clue
what exactly I'm looking at when my eyes pierce on through

Your face is guna tell me what ur mouth can't say
N I hope you figure your **** out someday.

Happy birthday- its what they'll say
With voices which typed words delay
Where on your behalf today, they'll wish
Simply for your happiness

A wish to me, is like the Horizon
An imaginary line of undefined potential,
Forever fading when approached.
With its endless opportunity preceding the powerless thrill of pursuit-
Forever fading,
we approach.

When Happiness is fleeting
as all emotions are,
The golden light of  this April's dawn-
Not silhouetted, scars.

Oh how the saying makes me sick
And excuses, there are not
Devicive taunting, hate's mimic
Word's we weaponized from thought.
So, a new turn of phrase,
a saying born within the dark;
Is whispered to myself, alone,
                                                    A Sky-cyphers
Scribbled, trailing mark.
For the first and only time,
Not of me but you
These writing's wordings weave a web,
of synthesized virtue.
To be spoken allowed to oneself,
read, written or thought,
Of each word that's now misused- their purposes forgot.
examined, explained, investigated my life
As if speech were the blade, written words are the knife.

all of the meaning and every moral tethers to our mortal coil,
Life and it's significance-
A product of its transience.

The concept of fate & of destiny, too
Both insinuate journey, the movement through
But where is it- We're going to?
Home, its depths, are dreams of blue.

From the first awakening to the sighted's sleepless death-

We're bent under times unbearable weight, between these events two,

I wont lose something beneath heaven's breath, worse,

Than the reluctant, peculiar, perfection of you.

Once Again- I don't know...
Deep, inside
the memories I left behind-
Close my eyes,

And remain helpless-
Again, Lost

To the fear.