My best friends are the monsters and demons that I carry with me.
Sweating in their frigid longevity,
They swear they'll never leave.
Their Essence is pestilence.
Their smooth grit Grinds the inside of my skin like, sand that rouses up from the beach, when the wind reaches gale speeds, and pierces silence like needles.
However, I see those needles and they won't penetrate the hatred of my hatred.
Dust settles and we adjust.
Sadness is just a fear we're forced to believe in.
They nag. Gnawing. Grinding jaws, they irritate and annoy me.
At my thin vulnerability.
Always drawing wavy lines in the sand,
so I don't know where to cross, to get to better land.
They implore me to hate who I could be,
Before I'd even seen the big picture,
the entire picture...
Failure, is what they promote here.
The swarming of insecurity is encompassing, but I will lie with this projected failure knowing that I have not failed you, but you have failed me. All of you are waves washing up and only leaving traces of what you were, not what you will be. I am better than leaving a message in the sand.
I dip my toes into the light.
Desolate cold of the unfamiliar sends shivers up my spine.
How can I not find the memories of which made me so blind to my own defining time?
How do we end up here?...
Peering into the seemingly empty canvas of the atmosphere.
Driven by nothing but fear.
Can you hear...
That the wind in my sails are carrying my cries for help?