A Vindication

The word purpose rests on their table. Your eyes drift from surgeon to butcher to stay attuned to the direction of their noise. Their words only teeter your brain further into the walls of your skull, tightening a tension that already existed. Their divine language is incomprehensible to your innocent ears, despite it being the very language you speak every waking day. Preventing your mind from dragging you to the place where virtue is patience and creativity is simplicity, is commitment holding your feet to their ground. Steadfast, you question their ambition for they are not philosophers seeking a holy verity to life. Instead, they are writers and linguists who theorize with curved hypotheticals. A brewed pressure leaks through the cracks of your skull, soaking thoughts until the anatomy of a story is nothing but opportunity for their minds. With pencil in hand, you begin to stitch the lines for your vindication with hopes it will forever conceal you from their world.