A Night Of Reluctance.

Today, yet similar to days before.

One can only imagine how the fingers of time caresses all of us, gently along each square piece of skin that serves no use but an expensive cover to our privates, thoughts and being unmistaken for a separation that neither desires another breath of strain which has been previously caressed. Might one venture straight onwards in a path that visuals interpret as, but straight, wide, the horizons stretching in circular radiuses when to end shall one reverse all beginnings. Look deep, one may urge another, to dive the lights down internally where rivers of blood importantly beam the veins, transforming the shaken unforeseen present, humbly, foetus like, releasing a moment. Plant this kiss on the surface of evidence, puckered lips whispering truths of affection.

Beg not.

I receive change, my blessings, my answers, yet how do I quench the crave for waters of true wisdom simultaneously resting this innate mind-self of constant battle with the frustrating air of depression that only serves its master, the ever forcing gravity.

Lay still.

No Longer A Secret.

All must cease. The whiteness of pages is perfect, anything written on is perfect, because nothing is perfect, therefore, perfection is an illusion. Either we exist, or we don't. Emotions cannot be deceived. How much farther down can hatred be suppressed? How much fear must be felt until no longer can emotions control being? Move with my consciousness. Move with my hate. The whole world can be hidden behind a mask. An apathetic face, or mask. Love is now protection, and stability. It is something given to people, which amounts to less than the fingers on a hand. The world is evil. The world deserves its judgement. I wish to see it judged. Including my own punishments, and rewards, should I have any. Not a care, but the care of being right, just. Not a care but the care of life for my loved ones. Not a care but the care that the rest must cease to exist. If it includes me, I surrender. Meaningless, biological bodies, lie since birth to fulfil a purpose... false! Truth of the present, it is here. With I, with all whom I hate. There is only one. A connection inside everything. Truly it is there, an action birth consequence. Truly, connection is the Beginning. And the End, when It comes.