a mental transcript

that's me in the corner...

oh, that it is not true. when the chips are down and the pockets are emptying and there's nowhere left to turn. desire has faded, life's essence untapped, uncorked, flowing away.

dried tear-wells never drip, when you want them to flow. a drought, arid wrinkled sand - the atom not even bothering to flicker. stuck in unease.

there's no sense in not acting upon what you know. a shell, clean, shiny outside, blessed, a wonder to all who see - but look closer, see the dark mass cowering just beneath, below the surface, hiding from view, unacting, continuing, just breathing, nothing more.

the heart's gone cold - there's a faint shudder of what was, but re-awakening comes so hard. the flow was broken and all cogs and gears have ground to a halt, seized up, unlubricated and still.

there's hope on the horizon, as it always is, those shadows on plato's wall laugh and turn everything around. but faultlines can be patched with companionship and togetherness. those that care, aware.

the faded hope of enchantment shows itself as a fool's dream, to be replaced with a reality more thn a fool could contemplate. getting to the root of essentiality, to the crux of life's here and now, can be so much more valuable than targets, goals and surrealism.

to be fake serves nothing except lying to oneself and all around, but to be real takes courage, resilience and steadfast will.

will that what you will is willed and it will be. what would be if you did not will is a terrible destiny.

it's been so long that it's become a cipher.

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