Today, today is another one of those bone crunching, will destroying, panic driving pestilent days. I sit within this room, mind dancing from a swooning, bent over the rail of a ship in stormy waters, stomach feeling. A storm brews, so says the news, but it's not new. I wish to just let go and be me, but the thought of those green orbs staring through me as though I was but a white linen sheet blowing in the wind, haunt my every blink. To think I once thought I was invincible, inconceivably without failing. Now the wailing's of my inner ear, spear throughout my head. I look up and wonder if I am dead. I must be; in truth, to so boldly smack your heart down to the very bottom of your soles. Your beauty only now truly speaks to me. The ebb and flow of your slight curls make me want to borrow into them, tease my senses. Oh, how now I see the love as a third dimension manifestation, a presentation to show me my folly. My head lolly's and my heart skips, as I trip over my feet. Stumbling and bumbling as a drunkerd might, in the middle of a blackened night. You were right. The one thing I know to be true, I will continue on in my life's fight. Stamp out this wicked blight that has so taken refuge within anxieties height. Some may call this trivial, just a burial of what was once. For me today, this is as big as any catastrophic terror. truth be told, my face darkens in the mirror. Hearkened by thy dastardly, sure-footed castings of self doubt. Creeping along I slither hither, to and fro. For I know my cause of this woe, is I. The bastard, plastered son. So again tell me it is silly, pluck your Lilly and tell me I am wrong. I've dropped myself for far too long. No one will continue this sad, tired song. Unless I the tragic hero of my days, says, "Walk to me, I shall cover you in reality so that you may see what is and may still be." I pen this not for your sorrow or sympathy, simply so I can drop this burden and tap my toes freely. The drip of the faucet near me, talks with conviction, and so I strengthen my attrition. My position is that of learnt, participation. Not an easy bridge one must bare. Inch closer. Yes, that's it. Just a hair more. Don't look down at the floor, but bore into your mind something loving and sublime. In time you will reach that ever coveted providence. The suspense may more than you thought. But again you will walk into it's arms. No alarms shall meet your ears, as tears fall, call to you. IT IS TRUE, not new, not obtuse, I promise my premise is no ruse. You will inevitably have to choose. The slowly closing noose, hugging so deeply your tired head? Or will you decide not to join the army of dead, instead breathe hope into your world the one in which you have been unceremoniously hurled.