ajax

Once again, my immeasurable potential fails to overcome my penchant for inexcusable heartrending failure. How tragic and yet how perfectly archetypal. I'm drawing words and writing pictures all over the walls of this brain cell... No use in despair or desolation, I've already used up that particular vein of endorphins. No no, now I only have room for apathy, dissent, anesthetic longing. It strikes me as odd how perfectly formed and shaped our own little narrowminded viewpoints are by the upbringing arbitrarily bestowed upon us by often disconnected and ungrateful guardians... Sentinels.

Buried deep between muscle and bone, lithe fiber and flame and sinew, something grows, deformed and ugly, and a sort of parasitic ache overwhelms the senses.

No I'm not sad, only painfully excruciatingly aware of the truth, one I'm not sure you have the capacity to fully comprehend at this point.

Tell me, dear, do you remember? Do you remember? The small pieces of infinity, moments between breaths, between sight or feeling, this love gnawing away at our malleable souls, hours of days of darkness grasping for something... A solid cloud born from the ether, a shield forged by the hammer of Ajax, carving your name into my wrist even for only a needlepoint escape, the tying of a vein; a piece of purity greater than ourselves...