Darkest Approaching
Originally Uploaded here by sp_clarke
I yearn for bed when I rise and I yearn for it when I return.
The wage slavery, it is comfortable. It slowly wears down my body, like old gears run in an engine for too long, slipping and grinding away at itself as it functions ironically until the act of functioning causes it to cease. It remains the enemy of great, holds me as I flit away and to it, forgiving me as I give it little heed, while the harvest it reaps increases with every few moons.
You are like a light, a sliver, in darkness. Like a single shaft of sunlight through a crack in the floorboards. I make out a shape, slender and lovely, and I try and hold you to me and... sometimes... I succeed. But, like that, you seem unreal; your ephemerality wearing at my belief in you. But still, you are like sunshine to me, like opera in wartime.
I starve without you, a terrible thing. Grasping, feverish, restless, I am sick with you. I find myself looking into everything you say and do, striving to know more of what is uncomfortably true and what is elegantly performed. And this, this interaction and being, make me lost in an endless sea of possibility that pushes me further from knowledge and closer to madness. The waveform, uncollapsing, and in this way you have killed me yet I live on. This undeath suits my mythos, I suppose.
The darkest time approaches again.
Written On: Home Computer