fading

my soul is in a state of complete discord.

unable to find a place of belonging on neither this earth nor quietus,

it wanders aimlessly through blurring days, completing its required functions and

exacting the sad, sad existence that is of being not for oneself, but through obligation.

i scratch desperately at this skin, trying to shed and find

some meaning beyond such robotic cytology. wondering;

if i can reach my very mechanics, whether i might be able to find an answer

beyond glazed eyes that scope the sunrise day in,

day out,

knowing only a state of melancholic penitence

but still, it seems it may be better to continue with this false nescience,

than to search for what will only destroy.

and so knowing that in enduring once again,

and that in recommencing this antithetic routine, the charade will be allowed to continue -

i take the first steps.

now i can barely raise my head,

and nobody can ignore the cracks in this mask

nevertheless, i dance again today,

treading the fine line between equivocance and mendacity. 

as always.

but this is so arduous.

one can only wonder what is impending.

[i believe,]

beyond overextension lies a room.

it is adorned with shattered specula and serums of anatomy,

submerged in the final dawn's effulgence.

come sundown each day,

i find comfort only in visions of such places.

they are abounding in the most beautiful of swan songs.