Mindful of the loneliness, Everything I love is so fleeting.
Who are you? So you are happy huh, sitting there in grave confidence, creating the stage for which people laugh in giddy relief? And you, always smiling, always playing the shallow yet lovable narcissist? You are excused, for now. And I, never making much of an impression, always distant (I am painfully aware), holding onto the moment with a white knuckle, too often sinking into a third reflection, cycling loneliness, love, contempt, respect, and despair.
The only language I speak in is salvation and tears. That is, when I am awake!
Too easy to shrivel up and release the form always being projected. Every comforting morsel is a mockery, an illusory attempt. Even writing these horrible words...A despicable mockery!
How can words capture a human being? Why do we feel that we are the only ones who are bewildered by the sheer enormity. All I want is to wipe away all defenses and be taken, with everyone.
Most aspiration is smitten with form, a resource for the spirit and a hologram otherwise.