(no subject)
These inner things need a balance. Understand that. If death comes tomorrow, there is a distinct lack of meaning and an overflow of wasted potential. This is the mortality identity crisis; what these fools go through, at which we roll our eyes. No more rolling. It's time to pray.
Let this work, don't let me go. My soul wants to fight. It's not a soldier or a magician. It's nothing. This body needs to understand what that means. I want to be full, pregnant with that freeing emptiness again. It's been too long since need has been heavy on this heart. Drowning in distraction and coming back to land in a void, and slip on the afterglow.
Loved ones are blipping out of existence, time is trudging on. Desolation is not my home, and I yearn to touch the light of love again. Deep, deep, deeper. Nothing nothing nothing. I have touched the hand of , I have felt the heart of the world. Let this work, don't let me go.
Let this work, don't let me go. My soul wants to fight. It's not a soldier or a magician. It's nothing. This body needs to understand what that means. I want to be full, pregnant with that freeing emptiness again. It's been too long since need has been heavy on this heart. Drowning in distraction and coming back to land in a void, and slip on the afterglow.
Loved ones are blipping out of existence, time is trudging on. Desolation is not my home, and I yearn to touch the light of love again. Deep, deep, deeper. Nothing nothing nothing. I have touched the hand of , I have felt the heart of the world. Let this work, don't let me go.