We are made strong when the long voyage is married by a most repulsive
-“Never have I ever”- (I’m going to take this shot now)
social suicide disguised in your own hand holding the matrimonial loaded gun.
A mile away, Not far from the place where I buried all my regrets, was the rough rugged coast of Sicily; Resting, laying down somewhere beyond the beach, no longer scrambling about, or searching to do more.
I, on the other hand, Was startled as though in great Danger.
In the distance, A hatchet could be heard screaming in the deepest of tides.
It was then, in the rippled reflections, I saw my powerful, most terrible enemy.
It’s nights like these when I feel like an irony living within itself radiating love yet feeling unloved. It’s night like these when I can’t recognize what tomorrow holds or recall what yesterday held. I feel like an insect crawling
I can still remember, some of how it felt. The newness of things. Each day being a sunny day of newness. Exploration of what’s all around you. Exciting! I can still remember the thrill of it all. The thrill fades