I don’t want to examine this. I don’t want to write this with the detail that is required to truly analyze this. If Bram were here, he would deride me for even thinking about any of this at all, but, once again, alas, that’s just the way I am. So beat me.

Yeah. I would rather approach this from a vague, free verse, stream of consciousness perspective, but at this time, the words refuse to come out easily, and I can’t seem to muster the skill by which I might render all of this opaque and maybe not even a little beautiful.

The problem here is that I can’t help but wear my heart on my sleeve.

Crap. We’ll try this anyway:

She warns me, warns me—
when I didn’t even think there was any warning necessary
all of my smoke and fog, spells of misdirection
incantations for shrouding the truth
stripped away
my vague and wispy intentions laid bare

But even a blind idiot could’ve seen this train rushing towards me
I will face it head-on and prove or disprove once and for all
whether my skull is really that thick

And still I fall

And I am not entirely certain
how I should feel
with the rug being swept from under my legs
every time I plan on planting my feet
the daggers of ice in my heart,
and the pangs of loneliness—
these I had grown accustomed to

But this thing that ravages my soul
seems to change its face every hour
grows another head every day
for every strategy that I play
this thing changes another of the rules

And still I fail to lose
despite all of the reversals of Chance
all my defeats are never final
though all of my victories are Pyrrhic

And there is something dangerous and alluring
in this cloud electricity folded upon itself
hidden in a pocket, deep in the chambers of my soul
Lying still, I thought
and still it stirs
Though I remember ever word is measured
and every glance a calculation
every smile a deadly weapon
and whether it is the games played with no intention
but I still seek some hidden, twisted paths

Oh, I will latch on to these scraps
words pinned on me like a Purple Heart
the ground is formed by nothing but semantics
gravity nothing but the heaviness of silence
I could float away, far away into the thin blue ether
but the words keep me in check

I am waiting
biding my time
and whether this thing will finally plunge its razor sharp claws
into my aching heart

Crap. I have no idea what any of this means. But to not even entertain the possibilities may very well be sheer folly.