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Aside

time has no con…

time has no consequence for us mere mortals, for one cannot manage what one cannot fathom. look ahead of you…is it there? you might remember of its shape and candour, but cannot plan for its path, as time has no form, is devoid of control, and refuses to accept boundaries that we might infer upon it. time is a constant reminder that we exist, as we recollect its passing, yet time will always remain that one step ahead of us. memory is dead time, so in no way might we callobrate this, as we have no way of altering its state. and in time, as a future, we have no control, as the possible train of events might alter at any given point. time is therefore implausible as a constant. it is there…no doubting this, yet it exists merely to provide us with an echo…

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Aside

should i appoin…

should i appoint myself to comment on my being? not seeing the point, not viewing the necessity of it all. merely wonder on my next move, my mission as it were, my focus blurred, my nonchalance at its height. you! and your lot, are safe from my tongue. you! and your destiny is penned by another. yet when you do come across me…you will wonder too…of my consequence…

Aside

in the blink of…

in the blink of an eye…it is gone. your life, a blip on eternity, a statement of intent no more. a bad smell on a thermal. you enjoyed it…or not? you partook in what seemed forever, and indeed it was for you. for you can no longer outlive your shadow than circumnavigate the universe. it held you for that time. it cocconed you in an atmosphere of absoluteness, until it decided to rip your heart out and throw you on the bonfire. and that is your lot. do not ask for an extension. do not cry for the loss only others might feel. accept that you no longer exist, for nothingness might be all you have left…

Aside

aft the glumnes…

aft the glumness, comes the glimmer

aft the darkness, that knowing shimmer.

far off in the distance, might the answer be,

calling out to welcome me. yet…

aft the trauma, the echo still, be a horrid taste,

aft a bitter pill…

Aside

sleep calls to …

sleep calls to me, loudly claiming a stake on my conscious thought. my mind riddled with muddled musing, fleeing itself into a stupor, hiding common sense and nous in tandom. do not call of me, for i will not listen to your demands, as my berth has been predetermined, as will be my passing…

Aside

as the silence …

as the silence falls loudly about me, the time for thought seems apt, though inconsequential at the same time. i muse on no more than the fickle nature of my whim, my fancy, my disconcerting liking for removing myself from the fray. for i am weak. i am at a low ebb. i am no steel, no power, no force of nature…i am pathetic in my pallid state…i am me…

Aside

sat alone, the …

sat alone, the world spinning out of control about me. their concern in another place. i sit, scared to look into the mirror, afore i spy mine own disgrace. shall i not seek the truth, as the days unfold ne’er mine end. so xmas shall i spend sitting here awaiting on mine friend…