Resignation

Last Update:

  1. Give enough time; excitation becomes stagnation. This energy made me converge two ways to a road of foliage. On I’d walk, a compass inside my right fist, ignored because I did not like whatever home had in store for me.
  2. A sight not seen becomes chaos ill-conceived. Sentiments found in treacherous chests. Who else could postpone the day’s pulse for midnight?
  3. Friends, if friends at all, are bound to get on with their own chosen lives. There will come a time that they will value things wildly different from yours, These are not just games lost in the lobby of another asphalt forest. Don’t blame them for sticking their tongues out just to get a taste of May’s first rainfall. At some point, the system provides little for the desperate.
  4. The weather terrifies me from time to time. Sewers implore water to lap my being. I would like to swim if I could through.
  5. This might be the last drop you would ever hear from here.
  6. I scoured inside many abandoned buildings, trespassed each because trespassing felt great. ‘Twas a late night budding almost deformed—under the garments but not defeated.
  7. Masks upon masks upon masks. I have my world with many Saturdays in it: full of unexpected guests who want nothing but dull gazes as they empty without gratitude past their lips the dinner you made. They, I, you quit things. We leave on the morrow to save some space for new kids. Cough up bread until our pockets gag; not for the amusement of others, though, but for ourselves.
  8. Diligence is scarce, but diligence I must have. Remember: I was not ignored nor was I missed. (Why do human abstractions cancel each other out?) Strict rules for my disobeying self. Last time I heard, they were heavy single-minded tunes hollowly recorded. Resonated no longer in hollow tubes. Pens resign as they deplete. So do troubled minds.
  9. Tomorrow the sun might shine. It might not. Help out your buddies, and I’ll help mine. TNU