this hovering pile of ash is now my forced identity. I sense it trudging through my former existence with no substance, no connection to reality or its horrid apparitions. it travels without acknowledgment and grieves silently within my psyche, wrought with apprehension and passive malevolence.

I begin this day with all the horror of a child with a foot caught in a bear trap. the charred one is summoned by my feral anguish and creeps into my pupils, preparing itself for another day of impossibly dark clouds that draw me deep inside their heavy nonexistence.

one foot drops apprehensively to the floor and frantic reverberations scramble through the universe, bending time and fracturing comprehension.

it is day one; the millionth in an eternal series that begins with every yesterday and never ceases. it leaves me in its wake and carves my effigy in the charred one's brittle skin.

the summer's dulling reprieve is a contaminant, coercing me into a false sense of ambiguity and makeshift bravado. I curse its crafty idealism; the way it coos to me in moments of placid dissociation. I know that this is merely a detour through nonchalance. I know that crucifixion is all that fate can muster when the doors are defiantly thrust open and I am left naked under the stairs, in decay.

ionosphuk