Mind Nomad Writing

self-imposed conviction and rigid law define this existence. void of commitment, yet completely dedicated to making this warped reality into a life. unsustainable and sporadic build and destroy carve the deep valleys across my brow. hopelessness and meaningless reaction forge the needle of this compass, pioneering a future with a desperate trajectory. marching to the cadence of a pulsating heart and the rhythm of a restless mind. these empty offerings create endless piles of kindling before insatiable gods. i sit alone on a throne of bone-dry timber. the spark was set long ago by the constant friction of these wandering feet. once a dim and distant ember has become an ocean of blazing justice consuming the storybook landscape i have assembled. rationalization and religiosity were once an adequate barricade between my kingdom and the encroaching tide. both now lie in charred ruin as my very throne begins to crackle. the truth of my own deceit and the guilt of my hands are laid bare and exposed beneath the burning waves. i watch as my synthetic empire melts, my half-hearted penance and blemished sacrifices decimated, never fully willing to exchange this fabricated reality. this is the only way it can end. let the flames crash. if i survive this purge it will be as a prisoner, an exile, a captive.

# The Writing Writer