Maddening

I filled my day with rotten voices

The melodies cast shadows on baited choices

...but mirrors pay tribute to cracked sights...

I call my name in the mirror, because it sounds like somebody

...and in sights left clandestine, I brandish sharp edges like harakiri...

The choice is made simple where nobody knows - a timid hesitance left in residence of progression, a melancholic narrative...

Where it sounds earless, tongues flap carelessly

I see into the mirror that can't reflect, I yell into wells with shallow depths

...and in this morbid reality where oceans rule, there is not a dark colder than the one that gets...

...the best in me that the deep pitch begets...

It is not the fire that burns, the ocean that swallows, or the knife that cuts

...its the the intent of uncertainty that calls the flame - a sharp serrated regret that draws the knife to pale skin and points the blame...

It is not the dark that makes you blind, or time that ages you

It's the possibility of shade that keeps you from the sun, it's the sound of dull ticks that shifts the sky...

...temporary is not temporary- it is permanence that makes it a reliquary...

So forget the truth that isn't meant for you, be deaf to the sound that was not composed for you, and close your eyes to the beauty built in your absence...

...there's truth in your lacking, and that reality is maddening...