I wonder why I even tell the truth, when telling truth gets me nothing and no where.
Why bother to do anything, if everything is for naught.
So, goodnight. With deep regret I shall do this thing and then close my eyes.
I will sleep and then awake to feel more regret than I did the night before.
But I must feel something besides this part of me that is torn apart.
Dark thoughts are better than none at all.
These dark thoughts do not come often. They do not follow nights of drinking or lack of human contact. But
a shift in some sort of unearthly paradigm. Where one speaks for re-assurance and gets nothing in return.
My thoughts have returned time and time again. Thoughts of the past and words that did not make sense at the
time, but now ring true.
True love, real love is naught to conquer anything at all as long as self-preservation prevails. So in
my wisdom, my fate does rest and my fortunes told by myself in my favour are false, and in this
falsity all but me shall prevail. And in riddles do I speak to hide this truth within me. My pride
is not enough to keep me from self-preservation.
There is nothing in me that shall keep from realization but unfortunate is the soul that is lacking in
motivation. This pain and emotion within me makes me so weary. That I wish to sleep a thousand
sleeps before I wake up again. To come forth a perfect individual that naught has use for imbalanced
and misplaced chemistry. Where dreams are things that cause such pleasure and not these feelings
of pain and despair. Where tears are shed at the birth of beauty and death is just an illusion. Where my soul
takes flight from my own doing, and not dependent on someone else.
Tears fall across crystalline like waterfalls.
My words fall on deaf ears.
To fall from these insidious heights would be a dream,
the stop at the end? Heaven.