pre-emptive apologies, reactionary dodging of the shrapnel from my sleep addled brain

spent too much time thinking of the unknown

of falling

wishing for a controlled plummet but knowing it is free fall and all i see are clouds beneath

did i allow this

set myself up for another collosal failure on the road to self-destruction yet again

the problem with hopeless romanticism is being hopeless

of dreaming is knowing you must awaken

of running full speed with no concept of stop is there is always a wall hidden around a bend

in my stubborn refusal to follow the basic safety measures

let myself read into things what i wish were there and that part of my broken brain latches on and thinks there is hope

only the damned reach out for the last piteous strand of salvation

illusionary though it is

misled souls doomed to wander the fog of ignominy, the lepers and the poets, philosophical fools letting the ship set the course, the waters are choppy and shallow

infantile and weighed down by the sins heavier than iron and wrought by their own fumbling hands

doomed to walk this cyclical cynical solitary moebius strip alone, haunted by the voices just out of reach

it is all just out of reach

cold biting winds and mockingly vague consolatory whispers, muttered under breath by sirens leading to another shipwreck

another ambulatory allusion of love

another fantasy rooted in insanity

the carrot on the stick leading the lemmings off the cliff

the phallic nature of man’s folly

the too tired mind state of another rainy day in mental prison, seeking the light but jumping at shadows

will o wisps and canonical separation of reality and indifferent fates in the study of chemical dissonance and harmonic re-evaluation

of falling, of failing, of try try again

of trying not to cry again

of wanting more and expecting less and the disappointment that still shatters the spirit

batten down the hatches, rough seas ahead, chance of sinking below the waves higher than eighty percent

and knowing this, expecting this, i follow the siren’s sweet words into the dark

maybe this time i will not be steered to an untimely demise

maybe this time the route to paradise lies in front of my weary mind

of maybes and mishaps and maidens fair

of krakens and coral and other sundry despair