lshah655

Love is a light in the dark, with light providing an ignorant bliss that pushes back the dark. The dark is the real world, in all it's indiscriminate zemblanitous nature. This includes the darkness cast by ourselves, our shadows filled with insecurity and selfishness. I want to learn to enjoy the light and the darkness...

I see the end in it's cathartic cataclysm, and I see myself consumed by every fear, every anxiety, every revelation. And as I laugh and cry and bite my nails, and as the tears evaporate off my cheek, I leave this world alone and scared, human to the end.

The ripple twists, and the bubble erupts, the eye devours and the nerve bloats, and the brain ignites before the self breaks it all, but perhaps there is still joy in remembrance...

Excuses for the unmotivated resonate along the glass lip, while the bravado of spiteful ignorance hides the possible truth. If we are to work, we should work for our beloved, but don't we first have to be loved? And if love is simply a system to retain love, as so many seem to believe, Then aren't we simply working to be loved?