Musings
Snaking into my brain through my ears, my eyes, my mouth.
Rushing and crushing and crashing and smashing,
Pushing through the barriers and clawing until it finds purchase,
There in the recesses, in the forgotten niches it grabs hold and digs in,
Relentless now that it has found its safe haven.
It is inertia of the heart.
The mind is unwilling so the body follows suit.
I won’t fight if I can never win the battle.
I can’t even if I wanted to.
The snake is coiled around now and constricting.
Grace is a gift which you cannot earn.
But on a quest for grace I find only opportunities for sin;
I take those opportunities and I run headlong into decadence,
Descending that slippery slope like the answers to all my prayers exist down there in the darkness.
The farther I descend the higher I need to climb,
Until it becomes too immense a task to ever haul myself upwards towards the Sun.
I am comfortably numb in this state of gracelessness.
I am society’s poster child for chemical oblivion;
I am the product of a shattered mind and a world that does not notice or care.
Musings (a poem)
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