I’m as free as I was yesterday, free to be who I wish to be or was prior. I took the blade to my palm and cut as the blood flowed from my porcelain skin. It was simply gratifying to know that I’d be speaking to you once more. It flowed like an hourglass ticking away to doomsday. You were blessed, you feel like making a change that will stick. You spied on them, and fought for a possession and or meaning. Frantically flying up, never certain of what is to come after all of this. You had glass, and were about to cut through the tire. Without limit you were, timeless and incapable of any sort of. Those thoughts were blank, without any course or plans.
It ends before it even starts, they asked you where did you go. But the request was nothing but foolishness. No questions for the grouping, a box car on the track ended with your scars in the training room. Rooms full of books, had no answers to the riddles within your mind. A road map is pointless, it harms your journey without a single tear. Those people ran from the tyrant in the midway, he mocked as the pursuit happened without a care in the world. You hadn’t even felt it before, the dreadful walk up the steel cold stairway. It was painfully obvious who was to blame here, those narrow corridors were spacious yet never blissful enough to cause a measure of panic.
Why do you let a word tickle the back of your spine, as if the mere notion has become this monstrosity that overwhelms the fierceness within your soul. Why would you ever let that pain overtake you, the blessing you had seemed to mishandle was lost. I find that these things become detrimental, they break our spirits like rocks against a charred and smoldering blaze. I blame the groups, they seem to have a finite view of the true oppression. Why weren’t you aware, why did you hide out when the winds of change came. I haven’t won, and neither have you. I wish we hadn’t succumb to this tortuous faltering. I smelled your ignorance for miles. But never questioned loyalty, and just trudged onward despite the warning.
Indigo’s are deadly, didn’t they tell you of this tragedy. It grows in the smallest of portions, savoring the soil and whispering in the singed light. How gracious were you to nurse it back to health and leisure. It hadn’t bloomed, for the things you fed it were grotesque and unimaginative. Don’t allow the reverence or gleem fool you, it may be time for your eyes to be examined. They were glassy, you hadn’t emptied them for a time and a half. You picked just the correct seeds you thought, maybe this time it would be different and they wouldn’t constrict. It grew on your skin, attaching itself to your heart wrapping its vines to your throat. You panicked as your own smothered you, for it became clear that this was the last draw.
Days like this, they pass by like a flash of lightning. Open flaps hit the floor, brisk and unmarked with fellow damage. It cooked to a charged sound, popping as if the explosive candidate had no reason for existence. The funds had run out of meaning, they were no longer blessed for they had wasted a life. Tales of a evil whim, passing through the chains without even a quibble. You had to let me know, it was an over exaggerated issue in pain that you caused. Those spheres attacked with a vicious rage, they had no purpose and no willful explanation. The senses hit you in the throat, as you felt it collapse within and ran into another peaceful tyranny.
Covered head to toe in vines, they constrict my breath as its chilled and sweat drips from my mouth and forehead. Tightening around the neck, struggling to push out any life that may be present or foretold. Bottles fell down off the ledge, crashes like a car that burned to the tune of a jealous malate. Hissed into your ear, as it charred your insides from no worry of anyone but its own volition. Was it backward, did you press play on the tape recorder and jam your nail. Your panic set in, it swirled disturbing your view that was never placed into the flame. Attributed to you, it snapped away quickly withdrawing as you attempted to saw away. It was admitted once that you’d regret this, that you’d find it difficult to rebuild this wreckage.