Impetus


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Aug 27 2020 3 mins  

♦ Connect!

♥ Impetus

I am the judge:
un-bestowed, yet unrelenting in my nit-picky sentiment driven and riot fueled pronouncements.
They don't go anywhere.
They feed on my sanity. And I don't think that overstates anything.
Feeling forward in lurches and groaning and mostly while glancing back.
Small wonder that awareness even breaks through.
No wonder sleeplessness pervades every dream.
I wonder what it's like to breathe freely.
I can carry weighty things, but should I relent?
I can persevere, but to what end?
I can talk. talk. talk. through green skies and heart beats. Where are we going to end up?
When shadows jump from looming dusk-filled wonderment onto our backs.
What's left to keep at bay if beyond this moment is a creeping disenchantment?
This has never been about cuteness or popularity.
Pulling scabs is the honest work of the beholder.
Abbreviate.
Help me to know what's right again.
Alleviate.
Bring me into light and out of this purge.
Obliterate.
Hurt me if you have to; I'm okay; I'll be okay.
Crucify my complacency. It keeps me warm, but I'm dead here.
Impetus, heal me.
Deliverer, bind me.
Into the fray and the fight and the hallway of open windows.

♠ fna

  • the fna show is an experiment in sound and idea recursively crucifying complacency since 2006.
  • Episode photo by Joshua Rawson-Harris on Unsplash.

♣ Undertow