one more time to pretend
fuck dwelling on the past, but there is no future.
dear pretender,
long ago I abandoned the very reason for my travels here. I searched for a fragment of hope in the urban skyline only to find myself moving further from the truth I seek. I fell at once for imagination and awoke aside reality. The more unearthed, the less gained in my supple embrace. And in this helpless struggle, I discovered my existence; laced with silken threads of beauty and doubt, my mind all alone mislaid by the deception and deceit passed forth from the suburban avenue. The eloquent eye traced my every faux pas and shunned every feat. And still, dreams plagued by fear concealed in the darkness of night, mended and lost by dawn. I lost my self in time. The inverted hour glass yields way for each grain of sand to fall; its descent saddens one soul and brightens another. And seemingly time becomes one's heaven and another's hell. Regret slipped reach and repentance further so. My freedom bound by my fate, and my fate became my epic. Sequentially, my epic becomes history long forgotten by all. Through this treacherous passage, my heart aches for love and breaks without. I long-awaited this heart destined arrow to strike, my heart content with another. See, on this earth, true love is all alone infrequent and lust lays abundant on hotel beds and a shadow upon the innocent heart.
