Stream Of Consciousness
Cold stones of fire, melting a frozen ghost of what was and never is, no longer seeing, always believing, unsure as to what to say next. Never has it happened before, never will it happen again. No one knows what it is, no one knows what to say. Frozen ball of empathy, raining down upon the sands. Assault from above, everlasting plague of indignation. Unsure of what is to come, complacent with what is. Never good enough, always struggling, never satisfied, always content. What once was no longer is, never again will what will be have been. Tears of fire shoot across the sky of my eye, emblazoned with the histories of sadnesses, the weddings of disappointment, marriages of victorious failures with an everlasting ember of hope, a bellows of rage, and a towering chimney of smoky ash billowing into the cold stream of a zephyr of forgiveness.