a few lost hopes and a broken halo

" Pick Your Poison " Picture Plethora :
The Second Helping [ from the 30th of January ]

There are always places you cannot go, the Forb1dden ( which just so happens to be another Error, I believe 405 ) . There are memories that have been lost, secrets that have been forgotten in the winding, twisting paths of time . And when I go back, when I try to take one last look at what has been holding me back in the first place for all these months, I find to my dismay that it is lost as such . And there is nothing I can do about it . When everyone I used to see as relatively important in my life has gone against me, people to whom I held high standards, to whom I looked up; there seems to be nothing I can do, but sit and mope, and cry about it, and wonder how I came to trust them at all in the first place . But then I notice my one way out : a tiny, softly shimmering light in the corner . My one last hope, the one faithful optimism that gets me through each day . The ability to start over . And I have taken advantage of it, time and time again . But now the vines of complication, the ethics of confusion, are so deeply twisted and knotted that the light has been filtered out, shrouded, and I see no way out other than the same way I got into this mess . And that way, that path, will be rough and dirty, rugged .. At times too slow for me, at others too fast for others . That path will be like nothing I have been through ever before . That path will take a lot of guts, and a lot of support . That path will often seem almost unsurmountable, will leave me face-down in the gutter with nothing to live on but a few lost hopes and a broken halo . That path will leave me heartbroken, will strike me down when all I ever wanted to do was make you happy . That path will throw it all in my face, will try to tell me that everything I have learned to live for over the prime years of my conscious life is based on nothing more than a sequence of dreams, lucidity long ago lost in translation . That path will never forgive nor forget, and I can see no way out of this situation . There is no real solution, but to stand tall, suck it all up, and look her straight in the eye, facing the consequences, swallowing my pride along with the repercussions of an illness undefined ( which just so happens to be the title of a poem I have written that I have not yet released for reasons as of yet kept unsaid ) .

LOST !! There is so much I have lost, so much I will never find again . And so much I never really had in the first place . And it k1lls me knowing that there is something missing, and not being able to retrieve it . The tip of the tongue is a precarious location .

And so, the plot thickens ...
Losing hope, I begin to lose interest .
And I begin to wonder what friendship really means .

And I begin to realize how pointless all this is; how much, when I think about it, none of it really seems to matter .
And I begin to recognize that apathy cancels out misery .

And I continue on my endless epic, my neverending quest to attain something capable of preoccupying me .

There was something I wanted to tell you, but it seems to have slipped my mind .
How convenient !!