But then the world turns on its head, and I fly amid celestial bodies still full of wonder after all the ache. Soft hymns waft about my dying vessel as memories fade into the nth dimension. Dreams of jade and turquoise project themselves onto the great black canvas of my soul; one more time for old time's sake.
You see me, all filthy and scarred. You want to help, but you often do not know what to do. It weighs on you, it frustrates you and drives you mad. You cannot be ON all the time, you cannot be perfect all the time, but who can. You want to be tough for me, but even the strongest need their rest.
Snow topped mountain peaks jutting out of an otherwise smooth horizon. Jaded people staggering here and there with drooping faces, and glass eyes. I see myself among the masses, one of many who have come here to make their foretold pilgrimage. We march along the shorelines of questionable pasts, and false memories.
I am ethereal, almost translucent. I am fragrant with royal blood that transcends time. Yet I find myself transfixed on the secret reels of my memory. I have tried to transcribe these invasive visions, but—
And as I sit here at my old mahogany desk writing to you my innermost thoughts and musings while the acrid stench of smoke seeps from underneath the cracked door of this room that resides at the highest tower of my crumbing mind palace, I hear their battering rams go bang-bang against the main entrance in echoing reverberations that rattle and confuse whatever dreams that remain within. It is too late now, folks, it is far too late to save what is there to be saved. That is, if what is there to be saved wants to be saved in the first place. These things, you see, they scurry away, here and there. They scurry into cracks that should not be there. Twenty-seven years, but the structure is already falling to pieces. They just do not build them like they used to, or so they tell me. It is a home invasion, you see, but I am not so sure who is trespassing. Whoever it is, they should know this is still my house, and I can s-still do what I please. I wonder though, who is knocking, and how did we get here.
It all comes down to the three; the Bear, the Wolf, and the Man In the Long Black Coat. I have thought about it time and time again, during periods of deep brooding as a result of constant insomnia, or bouts of loneliness. This constant battle of the mind, thoughts that run and hide, shivering or in shellshock. Paralysed by the actions of the enemy. Those sly buggers that undergo guerrilla warfare against the innocent and the docile. And I hereby call the security council for a vote that would decide the fate of my humanity. And I hereby elect myself as head of said council. And I hereby unanimously vote for an immediate ceasefire. And I hereby vote to veto said vote. And I hereby vote for the ending of this council, for I am the enemy.