The End 10/1/2012

  • Overtime I have found myself become the pacifier to your soulful,

    woeful cries. I am the grass that softens the collisions of your step

    against the earth. This was not the role I signed up for in this

    theatrical creation. Yet in many subtle conjunctive coercions, I have

    arrived in an ocean of confusion where the horizon is my reality not

    that which truly is. Why did I not resist such a power? Have my eyes

    been glued and my tongue mute. How did I arrive at this destination of

    nothingness. For it began with attraction which transformed into lust,

    then converting to passion, followed by courtship, commitment, excitement,

    confusion, disagreement, depression. Drowning each other in petty bullet

    point arguments. Subjecting each other to a miserable existence. What

    sort of life is this? This is not living but rather eminent procrastinated death.

    They are seeds of doom, radical in growth. Poison mixed with selfish pleasure.

    We were picture perfect, beautiful and abundant in love, but I became your serpent

    and you my forbidden fruit. So where does that leave us?