I Am Lost In Life
I can't help but feel the all-to-calm vibration of a solitude I'm no longer capable of enjoying. Contact with the outside seems unattainable, and so I brood. All the while slipping into an Ebony ocean of negative purpose. Hedonism wouldn't be enough to motivate a shift in mentality. Any kind of persuit of pleasure seems completely vain, and attaining joy is out of the question. Self hatred and melancholy seem to work in unison during these bouts of self inflictive contention. The constant bombardment of my self is an all too familiar scene in the up hill battle.
I often reside in the protectively dimmed lighting of my room, a lair of saddening familiarity. Lucifer swims with a leaden sense, after constantly challenging his reflected adversary, in the corner. I can't quite comprehend the frustration of inhabiting a box of water, ever on guard for an enemy that never existed and will never come to free him of his desolation. The betta fish is a complicated one. It's during those heavy nights of dull uneventfulness do I often lay motionless in bed, while free falling through an entire spectrum of melancholic emotions. I thirst for stability during, but can't stop myself from brooding about other things. "Things" in general. People. Places. Scenarios. It's pathetic, up until my thoughts crash and burn all together, as they should.
Some nights, I lock into the love of the release of a substance or two and find a perfect sense of delirious clarity. A euphoric contradiction. Although lately, I've been yearning for a highly potent sedative. Not one in particular, so long as it does the job and the sunken feeling is enough to keep me down for a little while longer. It's been too long since I last descended to such a warming level of absentmindedness and a critical state of limbo.
A sort of overcast enlightenment.
I often reside in the protectively dimmed lighting of my room, a lair of saddening familiarity. Lucifer swims with a leaden sense, after constantly challenging his reflected adversary, in the corner. I can't quite comprehend the frustration of inhabiting a box of water, ever on guard for an enemy that never existed and will never come to free him of his desolation. The betta fish is a complicated one. It's during those heavy nights of dull uneventfulness do I often lay motionless in bed, while free falling through an entire spectrum of melancholic emotions. I thirst for stability during, but can't stop myself from brooding about other things. "Things" in general. People. Places. Scenarios. It's pathetic, up until my thoughts crash and burn all together, as they should.
Some nights, I lock into the love of the release of a substance or two and find a perfect sense of delirious clarity. A euphoric contradiction. Although lately, I've been yearning for a highly potent sedative. Not one in particular, so long as it does the job and the sunken feeling is enough to keep me down for a little while longer. It's been too long since I last descended to such a warming level of absentmindedness and a critical state of limbo.
A sort of overcast enlightenment.
26-30, M