Skyward

Upon the wings of wind swept shores, I beseech the setting sun. Though my eyes have yet to be unburdened, I fail to see the stars, like my faded aspirations they taught me. Is there something beyond this point I wonder. the dark blanket of the night sky locking us in. suffering such suffocation, clawing at my throat to breathe just once more. This asphyxiation so intoxicating, it brings one to linger outside the world. Then reach, violently flail and pretend somehow it matters. The crushing weight baring down so insurmountable, how is it that a life’s circumstances could feel so heavy. Has it always been there?, this pressure of living. Is this the allure of death, end your labours forever, just return to your great slumber. Was i asleep before, a recursive energy flowing through time. Only if I could remember being someone else. Maybe I loved to dream in some forgotten past. Maybe to in this earlier time, I could still see the stars and reach up and take one for myself.

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