Immeasurable Intentions

I never asked for eyes so wide.

Never was there a request for resentment.

As foreshadowed in the requiem,

even restated in your countless sonnets.

Though words so farfetched,

they have been chosen with precision.

This trait all to familiar. 

The pools of whiteout.

The chattering of your backspace.

Echoing a chime for perfection.

Maybe they are simply spilled ink.

Or maybe...

Maybe they are part of your master scheme.

A plot to violate my future.

They have worked...

I'm all too sure...

Author's Note

This is completely spilled ink and the power to do so was extreme sleep deprivation before todays long day of work.
I came across something I hadn't seen for a few years now. It struck me so deep. But it's too late to ever know what it meant.

Reviews

[Wolfwind]

The image this gave me was of someone dilerious with sleep dep and they have let themselve sprawl back in a plush work chair, arms thrown outward and eyes rolling up into the head. All the while the demons are drifting around them like flies upon a dead dream.

Much enjoyed!
Aaron

[AmatusNimbus]

I gave this a second read and that makes so much sense! i love that you perceived it that way!