by B. Kielsun
As time grows old my heart follows suit and many personally detrimental and situationally imposed conditions have been and are being brought to light. None of which are exciting, scandalous, or even the least bit blissful, but all of which are rather inwardly illuminating, to say the very least.

I am scared; of you, of myself, of life, of death, of the warts that speckle a toad’s cranium. Although the events surrounding the vanguard of these fears remain quite ambiguous and shifty, I have rummaged day and night since being made aware of my internally focused vendetta and have gleaned one tidbit of information by way of my quest.

Existence presents nothing that constitutes a rightfully clutched, fearful retorsion to circumstance. Be it life, death, myself, yourself, or absurd tumultuous growths, I cannot say that a single one of my qualms is even the least bit substantiated. I am intrinsically pained at this revelation and find myself in quite the testy pickle.

It is undesirable yet necessary to admit that my rejoinder to this predicament will underwrite countless chapters of my existence, but I shall nonetheless remain steadfast within my newfound awareness in order that I may obtain a simply delectable conclusiveness with regard to my heart’s foremost misgivings.
Posted by: B. Kielsun

Prose (March 15th, 2006)