A Thought, a Trickling Inkling.

Here I stand, staring back at all the troubles I started. Times once again where I failed and remise upon the facts that have settled after the dust fell behind my searing soul.

I needed you upon reentry and couldn’t find the tether that left me balanced. Instead I suffocated upon the salting fat of the lies I made myself as cushion for my fall. A foolish attempt at embracing my demise.

I languidly drown in this pilfered quicksand not fighting the outcome or needing an audience. I sink, and sink, and sink.

C’est La Vie

NOSCE TE IPSUM

‘KNOW THYSELF’