mostlymariah
You're growing weak, I hear you speak but I'm blinded by the light shining from behind the valley peak. Your skin grows pale, faint beats your heart. This isn't what you signed up for back at the start. You realize the lies before your very eyes. But hey, you've got responsibilities to attend to.
I know that nobody knows what they've known. Illustrations and illusions, mirages disguised as delusions reappearing as infusions and incarceration. Four walls padded privacy stalled for the maddened saddened by the lost of sanity in humanity. It's been a long time coming but I know a change is going to come.
One by one we fall, into the pot that mixes us all. Soaking, stirring, spinning, swimming. Molding together the souls of the willing.
The determined always find a way. Kind of in the same way the sun rays always find their way back to the break of day. But sometimes conflict prevails. Determined to disheveled, no longer functioning scraps of metal. The ruins of the monumental, brain matter sacred stored inside the temple. Fate determined to disaster, it's a catastrophe, please quit asking me for the my insight. The hieroglyphs will encrypt despite your clarity in the day light.
No Vacancys Available. The words hang as warning, tacked right outside of where I want to say. The only illumination for miles around. The only light my eyes will open to and the only thing I can't have. Shelter from the dark; you.
Cue the turning of the tables, attacking your vital organs leaving your body unstable. Blow by blow and bit by bit you come crumbling to the ground it's the sound of pure symphonies to hear the weak spots in your knees and the delayed, sorry it's to late epiphany's. Toppling, dropping, shattering against the floor. The higher you climb the less you have to fall for.
My deepest thoughts tend to rise with the moon. The later it gets the more I am consumed. When the sun rises up above the atmosphere, I must make myself perfectly clear. I will not wait here.
I've seen the man who sits behind the mask, and I'm not sure if I like it. He weaves and builds and puts things together that come slithering out tightly knit. Most recently I've discovered the man down the hall, he works in his chambers where outside I stall. Hesitation consumed me so I observed from afar and watched him while he conjured things not to be, but rather just are. Things the eye are not suppose to see, the pieces of you that you could not believe. These things filled the air and I finally understood, this man made the thoughts, and the other one made them sound good.
If I were to measure time it would not be with grains of sand or by counting one by one upon the hands of a man. Rather I would keep tally with more important things, like each breath you take or the shifting of the seas.
Artistic abilities hindering me to blind to see the light is shining past the trees and absorbing directly into me because of this I will find the peace to cure the doubt without the beast.
writing since 2012 · 10 entries · 10 days shown up
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the words MariahH. reaches for
lightdeterminedshiningratherbehindoutsideconsumedthoughtssoundsunblowbithearweakfalleyes