Priceless.
Fallen clouds of thought brume below my feet, unsettled the soil, graining all-encumbering heaps like shackles of all-ensnaring dust. It strops along paling skin quivering from wounds inflicted prior.
Wincing & gritting away the pain is futile.
Blood, saps out the wound, dribbles seep down the scars.
Gusts whet— enslaving the mind in an asphyxiating flurry of whips & lashes that settle your unruly temperament.
Take one step forward in defiance of the currents?
You’re dealt with two choices.
Take two steps back,
Or die to its tempestuous torment.
My mind, a sea of rapids
A storm brewing in the distance.
I, a Helmsman,
Pressing my lips against the pendulum of my past,
Before tossing it into the sea as a relic of remembrance.
To sink...
Never to arise again.
Fighting against the demonizing grip of procrastination is an uphill battle I fear I cannot win.
But I fight.
I fight for fighting's sake,
to leave a legacy,
beauty or blemish,
And for my skull to mount the summit of the catacombs when it's all said and done.