The words blur before me and I let them.
A lifetime of black marks
and not a single decipherment:
and here again before my paper,
my interpretation is reduced
to mere tallies on a page
that contain everything and know nothing
about the scope of my existence.
And now my only languished prayer
is for the relieving white of blankness
that is required to have
no recognition of distinction
between the lines of euphoric joy
and the unmitigated despair
which trembles to overflow
from the ink-swelled pen
as neither can I
define its difference.
Author notes
The reasons behind this are partially petty and partially not. I feel like one of my friends has found another to replace me (the fact that I never could figure out where I stand with him friendship wise doesn't help) and so part of this is driven by jealousy.
The other part is simply that I feel like I'm riding the line between both joy and despair, as if feeling both. But a little push one way or another, and I'll fall headfirst into that emotion.
Yep. Apathy over.
Comments
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"as neither can I
define its difference"
Better a complete washout of white than black.
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