.alone.

you. are not. alone. with cavernous ceilings closing in, the impression of depression driving in the direction of some unreachable goal of controlled insanity – because always in control are you – you harp on your uniqueness, your originality, when in fact you are one of a many, one of a group, something you try so hard to deny as the blood starts staining your hands and drip, drops on this hallowed ground. through the watery haze of your righteous tears your gaze fails to fall on the footprints of another and another, walking the floor, their lifeblood draining just as yours. all around you they sway, scepters of tragedies pushed away and forgotten, long forgotten, as you blindly flail and try not to fall off this lonely cliff of Last Resort where you. are not. alone. you search and you seek empathy, apathy, sympathy, any “-pathy” to ease the pain of these lost, forgotten days, and yet you miss these hands reaching out wanting to hold you miss these words said only to console you miss these eyes meant to draw you in and all you see in those eyes is a reflection of something you’ve tried to deny and you continue to balance walking the lines of chaos, trying not to spin out, of, control – because always in control are you – you try to survive on the bread and bones of those come before, but blind you are to the nature of your food, blind you are to this world you stumble through and blame endlessly, releasing you from the responsibility you are being punished for, and you. are not. alone. so dive of your platform of solitary fears dive into this river of comfortable tears swim alongside these ghosts of years and years of tragedies so like yours let them carry you away from this cliff of Last Resort and know that you. are not. alone.