Impervious to detachment with an unconcerned conception, is a vain perception. A capacious soul with no vacancy invokes burdens of resolve. I wouldn’t fix my mistakes if I could. Sometimes it feels like God called in sick, while the void remains. Scrutinize the minuscule details to dissolve my silhouette devotion. Every story has a scar, and scars carry regrets, like a picture torn in two. I’m a stranger in a familiar place with ulterior motives. Hate your own identity and enthrall me with your naive acumen. Self searching blasphemy monologue manipulated ambition, realizing the sloth is eccentric to the still. The caveat of breathing is; with this life, we are set to fail. When did a smile become a chore? Answers transparent while questions compound. So many things held over me, and I can’t justify a single remnant of feeling. I sleep with my confessions to convalesce from my sins, but what’s the point if I serve no purpose? Self defamation is my only defense in light of my transgressions. Fell asleep companions; awoke strangers. I see it in every memory, and it still hits me like the first time, where was your motive? Sometimes I feel so faithless; I guess a little more tragedy would do me well. I wonder if I’ll find myself in the last place I left it, in the labyrinth of past regrets. Was I made like this, or did I let myself get this way? Ambition killed love and dissatisfied hope. Impatience took me for everything in a desperate attraction. I’m not looking for a cure, only answers, and I’ve hurt myself more than you could know. Two broken doesn’t make a whole, like sleeping off insomnia. Resent the mundane underlying inspired dearly departed pleading for a second chance to avoid bitterness. I will search forever to learn from my mistakes and understand the confusion, like lessons from a mirror, healed but reminded as I fall into life’s dissent.
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