As of Early

Skimming over my last post I see that I was terminally sad. I write these purposeful words because it seemed that the over-sustained psychic storm had dwindled down. However now it appears that the wretched disaster may have beckoned its way out of a brooding mercurial retrograde. There is absolutely nothing I can do about this without sacrificing my complete entirety. I am trying desperately to think less of Self and immediate others more, but I feel as if I am withering away into gravel and dust as I am treated as such consistently. Perchance it is purposeful towards some sort of meaningful meaning. Perhaps it is for the best possible outcome and I deserve every fatiguing sap of lively depletion.

Admittingly I feel as if I am losing my vision and any sort of focus or sight of any imaginable destination. This has to be a personal revelation of what death feels like since it seems to be the antithesis to my withered joy whilst it morphs into a pestilent virulence that I experience at a null set rate of miserable constance. Death herself only seems a friend at this point. I suppose that is all I have to prose about at the moment. Please excuse my manner of demurity of any further continuity.


~ by Jace Anthony Manick on June 17, 2015.

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