paroxysmly perfect

i wonder where it is the inspiration goes as it rushes from my thoughts and emotions…

i feel the world pulsing with each keystroke wishing how all the answers could just bleed from my fingertips. memories mix with the past dancing with those skeletons and enjoying the rhythm once of not holding back and trying desperately to dig forward and grasp an understanding, any understanding at all, of why certain events invade our little worlds and consume with vertigo. the conundrum deceiving beliefs and smothering the life from words of loneliness, my dearest of friends, whom i have known for the better part of my entire life, knows not the worth that is brought to me and others and the audience cannot pretend anymore that a love has flourished and grown solidly into the soils of my soul…the meaning is quite unclear that certainty cannot lie in secrets and bed with passion which consumes, devours human thought, and leaves a lurking, snarling animal waiting patiently as its prey continues slowly upon a path unknown. the big bad wolf obsessed over poor red desiring only to glutton upon innocence, or perhaps hungered for the food it presented rather than the flesh that felt so soft within his claws. the eagerness borders on the end of all things to come but where is the adventure in standing still though actions sow consequences and sometimes it is only necessary for each individual to grow to learn to need to find oneself a new person without realizing this is who has been and always will. rapid words on fire in the veins rushing and pulling and pushing all consuming thoughts become reality in a surreal dream that is but reality

but what is reality but a misconstrued belief that one’s opinion mean something to someone or anyone possibly even oneself.