Waterfall Incarnate

Interesting thought, I believe so indeed. To extract an organism internally that externally manifest tends to impede. Performance of every category individually, suddenly enforced to dictate each segment protruding into eternity, where the game is played. Ransacked, researched and thoroughly implored to extrapolate an answer to the problem plaguing both you and me.

Breathe. 0.12.456.02. Logos. 9.872.345. Decide.

An answer sought after, one that I have chased since I have landed within this finite race. A question declared through vacant stares and an empty mouth from which words, responses, none of them sprout. Interesting enough, as usually linguistics are an endless fountain constantly watering your bastion of curiosity. Was I ever enough of me to sate the initial wondering that landed me in front of thee, soaked from the rains of purgatory, filled with a hunger which could only be satisfied by an active force, known solely to me.

Within. 0.34.82. Search. 0.934.287.55. Grasp.

A volcano, active it appears to be. Warmth, that is a void. One in which I am accustomed to, hedonistic urges flow through me. I purge my senses to remind myself of their solidarity alongside me energetically. Is that, a fair response? For I wander, hunt and search for a curse that will rid me of my shadow. Once bewitched however, I feel hollow. For I am meant to bear this burden, as you do in turn. Part of our experience, the one in which we soulfully yearn, for freedom, as long as it comes easily. Yet stress as been appeasing me to give unto this situation and regret that I didn’t cling to you more courageously, now I daydream of you blissfully. Cherry lips and buttermilk hips, they invoke me.

Awaken. 333.54.76. Acknowledge. 94.738.382. Release.

Shivers run eagerly up my sides. For there is no place to hide when you feel inside that there is not another day in which you can live in a world where within your vessel, you have already died. Actualization at last leads to renewal of vigor, realizing that no longer shall we fade away, from here out we shall live heartily in the motto of self preservation. As strength and vitality returns to my essence and charges me intently, there is a void in me inherently, as though a variable of the masterpiece of the ages is missing. I see. It is you and me, separately.

Beauty. 457.65.938. Resurrection. 56.65.754. Mourn.

A cascading hourglass aimlessly losing track of the strands of sand slipping through one time wave into the next. This is direct, as it certainly shall affect, the dictations in which we are preset. Flowers. Made of stone. Prone. Lay as though you are a drone. No, oh no. Never alone. A throne, perfectly melded to you. This is what we always choose, to win or lose, maybe it’s all simply a rouse, yet I never intended to shake a butterfly of such grace and beauty loose. Over and over, this black hole slips me through memories fractured and spliced through the multiverse. I see you, through it all. A love, one without protocol.

Thank you for reading my work. Please share among social media & friends/family if you enjoyed. As always, bidding you luck on your journey and sending you Light through Love,

Brandon

Categories Personal Thoughts, poetryTags , , , ,

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