eye on

Wandering in a frustrated compound fraction of a consciousness, deliberately distanced from sensing what feelings may be, what could be. Possibilities become the tormentor, potential energy withers and becomes nothing more than wonder, the stillness of a gargantuan imprint making the most silent murmur the ears have ever heard. Distance, unreachable and mistaken for what's honest, and nothing can awaken this endless dream. Harmonious horrors and the scattered remnants of what once could have been cut away at my feet, leaving the scars and pain of each day, here, unable to move, directionless blunder. Caressing the notions of disappearing so no one can wonder, to become the lost memory which eats away at time's essence, a consequence which only behaves as the answer to a forgotten question. Cast beyond the island of exile, a hindrance bellows in masked names, it's all so foreign and grows to be more so with each morning wake. Shivering amidst the very fire to be lit but all the matches have found their way through the cracked pavement leading to joy, and so aimlessly I ponder what trash bin to make my home. They know not the true insanity that carries this mind along the wafts and breezes of the insatiable collision of a life alone, an eternity drenched in the colorless stagger I mistakenly call my existence. Pardon the handicapped inability. Forgive the scantily diminishing center of what was supposed to be my heart. Ignore the static, confused thoughts I assumed were my own. Translated to music, we always hope alone. For that's what we are: misguided translations of a frightened child's hope for life to be better.