“One thousand thoughts failing through, but none like mine. Rewind, rewind every second more unlike you as death’s diluted with god’s sunshine. Your scribble-pad soul, waiting for me to write, waiting for me to write your wrongs. Sitting so empty, posed in a symmetry hole. With my see-through palms I can never be whole. Keep waiting for me, keep waiting for me. I’ll get it right. I’ll get it, write.”
The rise I am coming upon is no accident. In fact, I have known of it for quite some time now. If gravity will even have them, let the churches fall behind me marking every step that I take. A wake for all of your wishes and a dust cloud to choke your moral mistakes. There aren’t many warnings left now and I’m not sure the world would notice anyway. I am through taking my time as I have found a hole in purgatory, now I’ll leave a thousand thoughts behind. You’ve seen and read many and the one I needed to die is buried in a beautiful symmetry hole where escape has told its final lie. I will wait for the moon to usher me into a place I was promised thirty-three years ago. The full moon will heal my see-through palms and I will finally be whole.
