Heart of glass

The spirits came to me wicked. At the moment of the first sign of release it went to show how broken the spirits' spirits were, and it's only a matter of time before they put the blame on me, shove the blade up my throat, and pretend everything had been unduly compromised by me from the get-go.

It never got going.

I picked up where I left off as always, picking scraps of crap from those who do wrong and feign ignorance to the situation in order to avoid conflict. I ate one fecal thought of a spirit who released her piece of mind, and in doing so automatically made me the villain, only proven by the fact that I played by with her scheming, seemingly supportive ways. This selfishness she saw in me was a direct compliment if not for the hostile nature of the claim. If said in a rhetorical compliment then maybe perhaps I may reconsider, reconvene with the entire pretentious barrio. The embarrassment was thankfully blunt, so as not to harm whatever it is that remained of my lingering wit. They apprehended my shame, and in doing so battered my sanity to the point where I almost feel the urge to bash some fool's head in, left behind the empty walls for the crowd to cheer upon, bespectacled, looking more than a fool and be more of a mockery.

These spirits freely roam the lands spreading their contagions seeking refuge from interminable cycles and loops. Their intention to dominate is clear coupled with their pedantic reasoning and indomitable bigotry. Far from actual belief, their wisdom is only but limited despite its savoury gift of gab. To be swayed by this arrogance and live to tell the tale is not a worthy cause but nevertheless a good parable to lull a crack addict to sleep. Herewith lies the attention of the so-called free masses. Armed to the teeth with chock full of air and empty fine words bearing like old wine wasted.

And now reckoning is upon me. Not us. It was never about us although we pretended to be so. A sigh of fresh relief overcomes the shadow of doubt only to be crushed by the idea that this short-term breath is but short term. It befell upon me like lightning as wicked as the spirits were, conniving and disappointing.

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