Suspended from the ground

This is a summary of my relationship to my closest companion, who's mind is a philosophical labyrinth. Infinate potential wasted, because he chose my particular imperfections to love unconditionally

Forgive me. Those are my current thoughts, but I'm currently in a bad state of hearing voices and watching inanimate objects dance around my peripherals. My mind is weak, and my heart is managing to maneuver it's way through my fingers. I claim no sanity in my words, nor do I expect you to take me seriously in this state.
My world consists of guilty and somewhat justifiable pleasures filled to the brim. You are the logic in my reasoning and my only logical reason to breathe. My life would be an empty novel without you. By some devine mistake or a lucky hand, I've found the one person on this earth that could overthrow an entire empire with logic and humorous cruelty alone, but chooses to use all of his capable mind fighting an victor-less battle against his own consciousness. An unnecessary war waged against himself because of the hand he was dealt. Unaware of how his only downfall is the four letter word created by fiction writers and a need to justify mankind's amorous thoughts. Presented in the form of a female who understands his own reasoning, allowed only because she wants nothing more on this earth than to just be able to have him call her his own. Fueled by absolute loyalty and blind trust... And he has allowed her this immense blessing, only to have it returned in a small white line that can temporarily relieve the pain of whatever self pitty trip the day had presented. A shame, but he is the only reason she walks this big fucked dirt ball. Never able to explain in words how much he has capable in the two hands he uses to hold her up when the clear end she deserves is pulling at it's next inevitable victim. He sees I her what she can't, and endures the unnecessary ups and downs of a simple undeserving, but unexplainably thankful naive wreck that will undoubtedly take them both down into the debts of a world that will never see the possibility that it could have had with just one different hand dealt by a higher power that only he was aware of. An end that will only be begun again by another chance of hands. He could have changed the world, but gave It up for a willing ear and a mortal, flawed, unworthy heart devoted to him and absolutely him alone. Wasted matter instead of the eternal possibility of godlike status among the ones who chose his hand against the monster irresponsibly named eventuality. Always intended to happen , never to be changed, and disguised in a flesh covered time bomb filled with an unaware pre-programmed self destruct that could have been avoided by a small amount of strength in the heart of the worlds only hope of progression. Doomed from the start, and obliviously and loyally fighting for the end that lovingly and unconditionally in his perfect dilated brown eyes, and held in blind confidence that form the punctured and bruised arms that allowed the grasp that he alone could have opened to allow the impossible to become the inevitable that eventually ends in eternity. Only to end with no closure, no logic, and absolutely no relief for the  two oblivious human pawns, carelessly, and intentionally written into a novel never to be read, just to be the base for a powdered substance that prevented any will he may have had to open the first page that contained the only words he would have needed to create a perfect existing that would never come. "inevitable greatness, caused by a necessary sacrifice called by a name muttered in the dark. The end of all that is spelled in 4 simple letters. B, for the breathe you wasted on her, R for the ruined lives left unfulfilled E for every opportunity surpassed by ignorance, and A. A wasted entity created with every intention and possibility by his makers to destroy the only capable of making his life a short lived, blissful life."
The last few pages are empty, but personally I would find contentment in the wishful thought that he would never  be aware of the nothing that never came. Living a full life of ignorance and a sense of fulfilled nothing in comparison to the invisible existence only fathomed by the hands of a self destructive, angry, confused and painfully unaware girl in love the the entire world. In my eyes, you're worth more than conscious thoughts and the answer to the greatest question a mortal could ask. We were born to die, reality sucks, life moves on and the world will continue to turn. Or so he says in his sleep. Dreaming of her. What a waste of nothing that will never hope to exist on a dying limbo inhabiting by chance me. A woman, warm of heart, weak in mind and in no possession of self worth crying out onto a small screen with a remembrance of a single dream in such a deep stage of REM that should never be revealed in the ignorant world, or in a smaller scale, anyone like that man I love, capable of settling for a pure poison in a slow fatal female form. Curved, imperfect, and incapable of any larger emotion than the absolute and painfully strong feeling of love that motivates the words typed out of absolute desperation to keep the world as she knows it, safe in her imperfect life. My world, my meaning, the love I will fight to death to death to provide anything for down to a simple glass of water... Is it possible that being unable to be anything but a mortal with only 13% of brain activity unable to fathom contradicting philosophies and logically even begin to understand that we weren't meant to know everything is a possible way to live? My true belief is that as long as I have this immaculate being to  call my own, the world can crumble and incinerate into ashes that cascade into an abyss that morphed into a million colors that couldn't be conceived by him alone. I believe the doomed mud ball we mindlessly roam was meant for you my love. A beautiful end covered in a spectacular show of something that will never happen because he doesn't know. I don't care, for the time of my conscious being, I had the entire world to wake up to with a beautiful morning sun covered brown eyed perfection, suspended from the ground.  together we descend down into whatever comes. Written by a mad woman, and read by the all too aware entity that is easily an entire universe that implodes into a single instant of thought, because its just a thought on paper. Nothing more than an ending to my story that has yet to end. Here's to the beginning of my story. It all started when I met my own consciousness face to face. His name was Mitch, and from there, the future was history, just said To Be Continued.  

Reviews

[Brea Leilani]

Hastefully*

[Brea Leilani]

A bit flawed in spelling and hatefully published but a small summary, backed my an immense love for the man I intend to prioritize over my own well being for as long as I live