Quest

I remember as a child that I could bend or warp the world around me as my mind saw fit, reality was truly what I chose to make it. I sometimes feel like I have lost that adeptness at losing my self into abstruse introspection.

I vividly remember staring through a stitch in a lucid dream, past a life not yet lived, yearning for freedom, wishing to spring to this idyllic lifestyle I didn't understand.

I sometimes ponder that I might still be sleepily in repose adrift amongst my dreams, forever lost into the obscurity of my mind, choosing to live in blindness then to be perpetually aware of the insignificance of my own existence. This makes me forever more intoxicatedly mirthful then imaginable.

I am cast away into a casuistry of my own making, of my own choice. I live beyond the gates of Zion in lustful rapture awaiting nothing, expecting nothing, being everything.

Am I forsaken or saved, am I condemned by my choices, my idiosyncratic way of thinking. Is happiness something forlorn to me, is adoration something I cannot possess. I am periodically grasped by a stalwart sense of despondency that seems to tear at my soul, leaving me breathless, yet I move ever onward gripped by secret yet strange feelings I do not understand. Yearning for something I've yet to drink in.

I'm walking down a path I've never been before now, starting fresh no frowns. I try to stay focused since my ability to mess up knows no bounds, past experience tells me this clearly.Sincerely.

I'm shaky like a leaf in autumn wind holding on for all it's worth, resisting natural order.Windswept emotion stolen, jostled, returned. Fallen.

Bright lights ahead, can't see them now, cloudy skies drifting through self worth walls. I jump outwards diagonally upon life's left shoulder, flicked away. No good, Evicted. Flying free with wings of soggy confidence heated faithfully of uncompromising strength I jump once again. I am Nothing.

Objects of love lost, split off branch by branch, broken & splintered. Tortured ideas of picket fenced suffering to societal structures, panicked, fleeing. Sweet embrace into mental exile of the american suicide, spirit lost in purple tinged shades of blue love, irrational thought in an uncomprehendable void. I am.

Fluidly living change into death, my only escape. My reward. Dark light brightened with hope of euphoric expenses laying in wait like jackals. I die in breath of loving living, voluntarily rising, raised. I am everything.

I wear a mask now, bright and cheery and gay, full of life and love and wonderment. Ashame it's all a fib a fable a foray into the forgery of emotion. I do mean well though I try to be like everyone else so hard it leaves me spent, but no matter to the extent of to which I may have once dreamt I cannot be that person. It isn't in me, it isn't sincere or heartfelt, it's simply fake.... Just another of my many mistakes.

Starting fresh. No frowns, yea no frowns...