I think I’m done with this.
I am not an interweb saavy individual.
I could really care less.
This faux existence.
Online… what is that ? Where is that ? How do I get there ?
For lack of a better word, I don’t really care.
I quite loathe this to be honest.
I have avoided my own true self for some time.
This is nothing but a means of pleasing my own senses.
Auto-erotic asphyxiation for my own imposed boredoms.
I have a wealth of writing to do ahead of me.
Poems and stories that need be told.
An ocean swell, a tide, that has pervaded and intruded my every waking thought for some time.
conscious and unconscious moments, encumbered by a relentless drone of imagery and experiences long forgotten or perhaps to come.
Perhaps the source of my lengthy and steadfast dealings with that old mistress insomnia have been not ailments nor a bane on the pschye
but perhaps mere invitations for a reunion.
Of mind and soul.
Flickering trails, dancing, parabolic and precise as they float about
I have a net and I must capture these beast’s.
These wildling butterflies … impervious to a fate soon to be told.
They have avoided captivity for years.
Free to exist in the ubiquitous nature of their surroundings.
No more I say.
They must be collected and returned to their rightful owner.
My future came to me in a dream.
A lucid state, nonetheless, yet in the brevity of this existence I saw myself: a portrait from the outside.
it was inspirational, telling in its brutal honesty
of failings and faults and sordid details I had long wished forgotten (this could easily be perceived as negative to the laymen or latent observer yet, I assure you it is quite the opposite)
In a way, I had convinced myself, that this should not be.
and so I had turned off.
A reverse transcendental state.
Allowing the constructed “world” to become a reality
and punishing the side of me that longed for eternal satisfaction
that accepted the omnipotent challenge of happiness.
HA … what absurdity !
Fear not dearest butterflies for I assure you no harm
and your days of endless adventure, abound in abandon have not been but for waste.
I have a collection to build - a memorial in your honour.
I owe to you this much, if not in due respect
than for the great distances in which you have no doubt ventured, ne’er shall you return
I must know of the secrets you have held
alas, what wonder!
what mystery awaits ! …
I need not a map for I now understand where to find you
neither hidden nor distant
merely at arms reach
awaiting the gentle and familiar grasp of a shadow to squire them home.
and with that
I shall begin.
Best of luck.