Monday, 3 January 2011

A Decapitated Yo-Yo; I

Flap your wings about, flail your empy hands away. Nothing seems or sounds right anymore. All your wretched todays begin to accumulate into a froth of monotonous distate. A malaise wretchedly familiar begins to take over. You work quite hard, but you discover that the wall you so diligently began building has met with yet another engineering challenge of sorts, and must come crumbling down before your eyes to its fate - yes - once again. You start piling up new bricks, start scurrying around for some emotion; cement, let's call it. But the supply is too low. I feel no more like constructing these walls that are destined to fall into a hapless mass of shambles. The foundation of me feels akin to this... these shambles. I find no strength with in me, to muster up any efforts with which to indicate that I care. The supply has been too scarce in my own experience when I most seem to have needed it, and now I wish to give back just that - what I have always seemed to have gotten; a sparingly limited supply of this much sought for care and its share.

Give, Do, Listen, Watch, Agree... these one sided actions are beginning to fester at the core of a me, whom I know not anymore. Take! Leave me just be please, before my sanity to et all I forsake!

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