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Saturday, June 16, 2012


A desolate angel quivers beside me, starving. Swallowed whole by her desire to see the truth. Addicted to the possibility of tangible love, but fated instead to suffer through an ethereal sense of enchantment. The world’s tyranny eats her dreams. Corruption of thought pollutes her compassion. Empathy bleeds through her, unsaid... and unnoticed. The advantages of apathy are overwhelming, and for her... impossible.

Wrapped in masks and shadows, I can’t see her face... but I can feel her scars. Ghosts of her past are here too, breathing new nightmares... chasing her tears further into oblivion. She can’t hide forever, but she wants to. Building self impressions can take years, but devouring them... only seconds.

 Broken mirrors reflect a broken soul, aching to be put back together. But where are all the pieces? How would she know if they fit? What if the final impression... wasn’t enough to satisfy her insatiable appetite for sincerity? Who was she? Under all the pre-text, all the disillusions and fantasies... was her reality malleable, and left to interpretation? Or does reality belong to everyone?

 What if everything tastes the same as nothing?


LupineLooPine said...

yay at the new post. I resonate quite a bit with that angel :/ . I don't know if that's a good or bad thing.

if you happen to be a billionaire...