Sundown
This side of sundown
Somewhere in the multiverse
’tis a fairy tale
Sensory overload might not pose that much of a problem should I muster just enough courage to make friends, if not make peace (baby steps), with myself.
Dusk no sooner drew near than this anxiety crept and crawled, surging and clinging fast to the core of my being; leaving me struggling to slip away from its sickly embrace--only to relent and let it slither up my throat with such uncanny grace.
Navel-gazing might well be unbecoming during this phase of life — plummeting unto the nadir of my own invention; ever-wondering why I even bother ruminating about all this in the first place.
"Fucking wanker." Said he in the mirror. Grinning with unmistakable contempt and mild amusement because he knows I can take it--in days where the weather is fair, that is.
Some other times, though, it dawned on me, how close I was to becoming a headline for a day in a clickbaity online news portal--How self-righteous it would be; throwing away everything, while knowing, and realizing, almost too little to late, that my death won’t happen to me, but to my family and my friends.
The light might go out tonight; this fairy tale might stay in the imaginary menagerie of certain memories and heartaches. Yet the dawn shall break; or so I hoped.
Another exchange to experience; another moment to savor; another time for sambat, soul-searching and all that shit.
But that’s another story for another day.
