These chains weigh heavy, like the depths of undiscovered deep-sea oceans. My youth is hemorrhaging confidence with every doubt that tears at the shelter for my spirit. Can you feel the pain that stains these pages? I've been patiently waiting for these wings to gain the courage to soar across my limited range. In my attempt to reconcile, I jar and seal these pickled emotions to savor on them for motivation. Pain, is nothing but fermentation.
Mental note: Purchase more mason jars…
Jolts of Enthusiasm
What is the shelf life on these jolts of enthusiasm? They come every stage of the moon, and drift as soon as the setting sun. Leaving the hollowness Of a decaying tree, And the bewilderment Of reality.