Falling again
The heavy hand of reality lies upon my mind, crippling the communication between soul and body. Overcast clouds the view and I can no longer see a direction only reel from anything I touch.
Confined to a self-indulged prison I cry at the bars to let me out, but the door is already open. The only reaction seems to come from the inner instinct that all the bad lays without, not within. If only the truth could compel me to see the twisted matter that is bottled up inside, then perhaps the chains of freedom wouldn’t be so contusive to my current arrangement.
They once said the devil is disguised to be the most beautiful thing you would ever see; then why is hell on earth reigning with no beauty behind it, is this the conclusive work of what some call God? That would make the only sense “ live in hell, reign in heaven” – It’s a wonder the world has fallen from any sort of true religion, how can you believe that hell could ever be worse than this.
Every moment seems to be a waiting moment – you know where you’re waiting for it to pass so that you can go on with the next miserable moment that will tie to the next; a chain of misery that is tied together by some sort of woeful hope that is only discouraged by the coming moments.
The rope that climbs you out of the hole is covered with oil and the light is laughing and taunting you from the top as you tumble back into your miserable existence, covered in the mud of yourself loathing. Bathing on the floor after every tumble down to the cold truth, that you will never have anything you’ve ever wanted, because by the time you get it you’ll just want something else.