When a gasket blows, you know you’re redlining. As the revolutions per minute pass through the yellow and into the reddest zones, temperatures rise and love evaporates like oil into thin air, a smokeless screen overtaken by a fake dream, a happy thought sacrificed for a picture of utter blasphemous words against God. A topsy turvy world with so little to perceptually laud.
Where does this come from? You ask yourself once again. Is it from without or from within? Its presence is dark like a daymare gone horribly and tragically wrong, and you really have no control over yourself or your thoughts or the direction of this…longing…or do you? A pawn…in the fight against reality, futile attempts to change the unalterable truth of a moment that only surrender can deliver. If only you could let go…if only you could remember. It is almost there, not here.
Are you one or are you two?
Essentially love or essentially blue?
Two non-rhetorical questions that you parade around your thoughts like Real Housewives parade around D-List realities, which is to say with full egos and fuller breasts. Arrogance. Fear…it smells like a divided soul, a soul that is not one united Self.