Without end, an ever-flourishing divide between.
An agreement they hold of their pleasurable coherence
and my floating away from anything resembling,
staying the sane chasm flaunting its ever-widening gap.
With no escape from surrounding outside normality,
no escape from compressing solitary confinement.
Cornered into an ever-increasing faith for the unrevealed answer
whose revelation is no longer expected.

Sensing within only vitality from the ever-lingering numbing,
taken for the unison of calm and frustration that it is.
The swelling emptiness birthed in trials by freezing flames,
stoked by societal conditions taking form as foolish trappings
thrust upon by listening to the ever-burgeoning songs of hope,
promises of restoration if belief is simply not sacrificed
at the whim of the inevitable god of pessimistic virtue;
a twistedly wicked gift from the ever-bound joyous.

Their words stab at the heart of every attempt made,
at the ever-stained rhythm stationary in the core of being,
at rivers and streams scurrying through their known passages
and the captured winds parting with pieces of its temporary self,
at all belief once felt real and results once thought within reach.
Illusions standing ever-broken as inabilities to yearn for hope,
finding no rest in either reality or surreality,
proving a pervasiveness in ever-exhausting needs.

Need to leave.
Need to take.
Need to feel.
Need to fake.

Need to breathe.
Need to drown.
Need to smirk.
Need to frown.

Need to rid.
Need to keep.
Need to die.
Need to weep.

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