Something Of A Mess

I am spiraling out of control.

My aspects are coming undone.

My views, my scales, my shards.

Everything is slowly unraveling.

But what a deemingly short life I've thought of.

To hold it all together, I need a bind, something to hold them all together, otherwise, otherwise, I'd be nothing at all.

I am baring my soul, I am naked in thought when writing.

I cannot escape my own feelings, my own emotion, my own thoughts, I am nowhere, but everywhere in my head.

All these memories softly whisper themselves, working their way in my mind.

I cannot hear silence.

Cannot be still.

I am struggling to sort these strings of the same color; what am I sorting, because memories fade in time, memories of the same doctrine, of the same race, the same origin, they are all alike, and there is no need to sort out blandness... and I don't have time; time, my old friend, why do you talk in lies and wave your hands when there is no fire?

Reviews

[G.A. Grim]

I really enjoyed how you matched the writing style with the message. Life is indeed a chaotic mess, but a fun one! I thought the line; I am nowhere, but everywhere, quite profound. Good read.
- G.A.