incoherence

if you imagine i would exude an air of indifference over this matter, then, you are quite correct. people who bridge between two things, and make such a leaps of thought and come over to such outlandish conclusions, do not understand how all of this might be an elaborate front. or truth disguised, poorly.

but what words are these, such malice.

the point is, if you’d rather me bury all my thoughts once more, then i shall oblige to it, obligingly.
as if one could not trod quietly over things and must burst into a convulsions and frightful fits.
as if guilt can consume oneself and beckon from the dead. can they not be exhumed?
as if overcoming is the most difficult part. haven’t death stood at your door are seized
away every single faculty of your melancholy, purged every thought of languish-ment
sinking into morbidity that all is left of you is you dredging out yourself, carving into hollowness
until that too is excavated, so you find a new nothingness out of nothingness,
that is something actually, so you cling to this sack of emptiness so that one day somebody will fill you back
in pour pour pour however poor his being; it is the willingness to participate – not the spade – it is the heart that you desire – not the art nor the grandeur –

but i must stop. because i am making no sense.