Consequential damage accumulated within multiple sorrows has that eternal clock left with permafrost, binding the impactful moments to each cell.
Confusion sets in as the soul screams for redemption, wanting to be free of the “sins” of the masses, including the mass within.
Staying in vigil of my own essence, my own love, each step takes me further into the abyss.
Falling upon broken knees, broken from years of repent, tears fall as the body quakes in release.
Again, a journey into the dark night of the soul. A space where a stamp on the frequent flyer card would be nice for a bonus ascension.
Rising within the etheric realm, shedding the mud and negativity is the goal.
Why isn’t it mainstream to want to rise above?
This space, this damnable space is ours alone to navigate. No pill fixes it, no substance numbs it.
It’s that journey we signed up for which is ironic. So the basic message?
Stay in your own lane, rise and shine, shit or get off the pot, rot and die.
Impregnable choice isn’t it?
Ironically it’s on us…cheers.
The Abyss, Under The Bleachers , The Rye Whiskey Review and The Dope Fiend Daily.
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