You learned to kill the space for potential and opportunity, so instead stress reigns free. It sings from a position of power and control, needing both while simultaneously draining you endlessly.
The beat rises to the sound of the impending doom burdening your senses, blocking your cognitive abilities, and leaving you wandering in a sea of thought, trying to be its captain.
In every song, the melody follows the same path. It is the end of the world. It is the brazen lust of an incessant call to action with none taken. It is the mere dismissal that blinds the sight to be completely blind.
In this mind field of agony, suffering calls its masters to come and enjoy a drink on your behalf. Asking of you everything while sipping into their intoxicated state, happily oblivious and content.
We shy to honor our fragility, so we commend their hubris to take charge in a sensual, almost appeal that bypasses our feelings, leaving us as vulnerable as we ever are.
The ballad continues and from one tongue to another traverses our spine, carrying signals of distress to signal a day we are not enough. We are not capable. And we wee run out of our way to be.
Sadly, the stress is relatable in its appeal. While all along it’s an observer creeping into our lives, dismissing every ounce of you to a sacred cry calling for you to die, and afraid you reject, not knowing that in the end of YOU taking the burden of it, stress rests.
Until the next ❤️ beat ~.~.~
