Often time we find ourselves, not where we left off, but where we've never set foot. Mired upon roads slick with spit & blood & the tears of the fallen, we disjointedly heave ourselves upon the pillar of our own self-sacrifice, left to find self-loathing our only constant companion. The frost quickens, the breath hot & shallow as our bones crack like dried branches beneath our feet. Has it always been this way, or have we simply forgotten what once was & will never return?
The end comes shortly after the beginning, seemingly skipping the middle altogether. Caught, like rabbits in a snare, we twist & shake at our shackles, wondering if there is some form of reciprocity tied to our suffering. Linked, as a chain, we find ourselves bound to each other - the first, the last, the lesser & the greater, each entangled in some sickly sweet cosmic ballet.
Devoured by wolves, our limbs strewn about as we litter the forest floor with our corpses, one wonders, why? A click, a clack, the snicker-snack of Carroll's woes leaves one to wonder at the misery of it all. If it's gone, baby it's gone...our existential conflict a mockery of our deluded sense of justice. My eye for your house? Your hair for my home.
It's time to go now, perhaps it never was. Truth becomes subjective once uttered, & lies become truth once observed. It's time to go now, so long & so goodbye. It's time to go.