Mine is an extrinsic amnesia
A taciturn retreat from the somatic
From those precipitous farewells
Which trespass against reason
=
Like the migration of stars
Grief passes slowly, resinous
It fastens the heart to the spinal
Column, the feet to the floor
Absence being the shadow
Of a ponderous inertia
=
I have stood in the hollows
Of insidious impressions
Defiant, negligible, my nerves
Snapping and recoiling like
Whips, soul split down the
Middle like an overripe peach
As incidental as the appendix
While others pass strait through
Unscathed, as if I were of no
Consequence unless inflamed
=
Mine is renunciation of theatrics
A surgical removal of those
Personas which exsangiunate the
Intrinsic. From those deceptions
Which through their acquisition
Prevent genuine reciprocation
=
Like the exodus of continents
Change is a gradual shift in
Perception, a gentle habituation
Of those stubborn neural pathways
Which experience so often dead ends
=
I have abided to miseries distortions
Cast my reflection into those mirrors
Which, being filthy, conform to my
Diminished sense of worth. I have
Abused myself through surrogate
The scars run just as deep no
Matter who holds the weapon of
Incision because the motive
Remains pathological, immutable
=
(being sick scrambles the brains have to wonder if I am making sense lol)