Death of Happenstance

DEATH OF HAPPENSTANCE


Oh sweet happenstance, what has happened to you? Must every moment be premeditated with manipulation? Void of all sincerity, you creep upon me, leaving me to extricate every building block upon which you are built. The plasticity of the moment leaves me void of emotion. I yearn for something deeper, something purer, something that is not driven by fear. The mirror gives no sympathy, for I am inventor, creationist, master of my own destination. My pervasive wounding is reciprocated by all that I touch. I feel my damage, I taste my discourse. My internal spite deepens and drowns us. Where you were once a life buoy, you are now a hollow pit. Your ashen base knocks me down repeatedly. I slip, I slide, I sink deeper into you. The putrid stench of decay suffocates the remnants of your volcanic walls. With each breath, I watch the walls light up and then slowly fade. I lay buried in your soot, dampened and dirty. I try to dispel your toxic fumes, but for now they are the only breath I breathe.