Melancholy, the phases i go through, the lives i have lived and the sediments of my past experiences, do not tie me together, but rather gives me a story to share. A simple person, looking for the sullen, the beautiful and true; besets me into my spiraling inquiry - something that never left me, my guiding light, my god.
Indulgent, the masses look outside themselves for answers to questions yet defined. I stake claim to only my own truths, many of which are still a massive blur. Sometimes this life bores me, and i get fickle about the material side of life. The figments of pleasures, my imagination draws forth from all my insecurities of many. Yet my soul's gravity pulls me back into myself, often intensely - leaving my sense of ego; faltering.
Lukewarm, emotionally i succumb to hedonistic points of view, firmly held imbalance, as the chemistry of feelings explode when i am alone. No one to oscillate to, no one to communicate with, no one to expel any whims from. I enjoy the solitude and i smile at my comfort and ease of my emptiness.
Sly, my mind plays visual and auditory symbolism's designed to confuse and distract. The hegemony of culture and society puts voices in my mind, telling me to follow suit. Of which i sense the immense struggle within, not of arrogance, but of a insistent grace - bellowing the tide of circuitry involved in this shell i call my head. A pedagogy still afraid and untamed, it brings me back to my dilemma.
End, is the sign of things to come. An exclusive privilege only given to the chosen few. The wisdom of knowing your end, can only force a transcendental state. Impossible to go back to the same consciousness prior. A fragrance that you will never encounter again, is the stench of your transmogrification.
In memory of an important man.
A love too young to realize,
I miss you.
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