On Dire Demand for Truth (An Infinite Incongruous Feat)

Time does not give me the answer, nor does it induce me with the least of comforts. Often times I am inebriated with lugubrious retrospection on the “what ifs” and “maybes”. During these periods of dejection, I feign ignorance on my state of dissolution. Cracks on my ceiling do not speak words of erudition; the night light does not register melodramatic resolutions to the illogical disputes in my head. The abrupt changes on the weather patterns of events lead me to conclude that the “id” is presently extinct. Gradual regression of desires and avidity prevail. In an attempt to decrypt the negative circumstances that had occurred, intensive scrutiny is applied to viewing the past few months of my existence—which I wish was in a fashionable “erase and rewind” condition.
Seconds turn into minutes, the latter into hours; still I find myself in the same disposition—perplexed. It is a vicious cycle occurring after dark and before daylight; when one refuses to permit change to take place.

-J.