I will recall the soul as inspired so many a lovely flame as fired, forging thus, desire and that desired once, proclaiming as much as this the muse of much of my creative lust! Very depressing, therefore, when I saw a stranger moving a box of items – holding it, rather, in his arms once gathering it from his vehicle. He had and now adjusting it for her to idly finger through in examination, he was. Still in the process of moving it, that was, held but a moment at her command and gone in a flash. I stood cautiously, peering within. I never made a movement, I swear -- not a muscle volunteered itself, not a gram of my frame was mobile, possibly to even the perspiration or inhalation or exhalation processes, the condensation or extension processes overall in my every organ dormant. I subsequently could have withdrawn, could have settled for a more ignorant understanding, were the forces at one with my biological functions. Never so, it was then and there that Vera saw me. “Hello,” she said, coming forward in the dark, arms folded. Barely was there a moment between these flippant syllables and her next few casual phrases, but my blood was splinters within their veins, cold and cruel and at once wishing to try and warp her mind with whatever abilities were at my disposal, I was almost capable of freezing my very perspective of sequence in my eagerness. Time was grating on with the pace of water dropping. I felt that whatever successive points to be articulated prematurely saturating the premises, moreover, and the outcome had a hold on me with every condition of authority as if manifesting evidences of my every futile examination. This power, although overhasty in its establishment, was no more unjust than the instances that predated and postdated it, those against me, no matter how incomplete this authority exercised compared with the more thorough injustices I suffered at her hand. For this I felt used to the execution of my demise and also marginally guilty per familiarity. Despite this, I wished to draw from her her favor, though candid be it far less and tainted, surely, truly, by such measures as this that, used to secure it, imprinted upon the expression that, thusly established, undermined its inspiration. By my force of will, this be and what black magic, what grudge unwilling resources unconsciously might lend to the purpose at hand and for this the object for which of folly I was willing to expend these, despite that doubtlessly the result should disappoint, would bring a success riddled with many a disaster. I might have been willing to engage these misfortunes, little as that was, little as it be, this the degree of favor secured, considering how unshackled my will only, even; my heart wept. I mean to be undisturbed forever. That being said, I bleed easily and readily, there the complication; not alone and safe from any interruption or such complications as suggested by this expression -- supposing that one manages to overcome all the opposing influences of this world and assume a distinct and succinct identity forged by credo established naturally and haply only to oneself, comparable to that I might manage, or should once, to restore to myself, I should very much like to be involved with the testimonials of others. This then not the definition intended. Regarding the needs of the human, sharing those needs and providing nurture is never the bitter stroke I mean to shake. I mean, in turn, to never be shaken. Therefore I mean undisturbed by meaning to never be bloodied within as without. Her raillery in address tested this ambition. It was in her look and cadence, a liberality of spirit that again declared itself composed and never afforded me an article, a token, never attended a sense of obligation or let sight of privilege no matter how I might succeed, as ever was. This a point of how small a claim was lost to me, considering the portion lost. A measure from my every influence was her whit of tolerance, dotage and declaration, her many intimate particular all and each a pinnacle too far to attend, and subsequently without grasp, that of understanding or conquest, and, inconclusive of origin, conclusive to my status, be it that I was guilty or clear of wrong. Without consequence to the estimation, against my every interest, therefore, a point of study and correction based entirely without regard to my characterization and thusly hard-set against me, this event, my worthiness or recognition or none such of such broke upon my spirit like agony. She seemed to swarm my vision, my every attempt to chill a loss to despair and separate mania as even the most callous individual could not prevail. I could feel a deep flood of pressure within me begin to swallow core and chambers as forcefully a deluge as one real, a real pulse, one actual and pumping, a haunting injustice -- not of my choosing, never of my choosing. However I might, additionally, I couldnt fathom or conjecture the juncture as I had, as I might be sure I had for treatment that for sheer origin of proves I must have, touched upon her sensitivities unknowingly or given reason to of such willful dismissal. The mere presents of this unkind judgement, however injust, made my shame known to me as a distance, however unaccountable, as far as I could ascertain, imposes itself ten times potent for every instance of causelessness conceived. My mind conceived this: Of the mind, the terrors there Entertained by the nature, The very state of this slate, Incorporate with measures of – and not – itself related, Integrate. There combined, the errors bate, unrestrained; Errors unsure of delegation or cause as elect The elevation of such context, Out of place, rejected, burst, The mind, elated, reinstate. Of the mind, the merest contradiction May propose such instant fiction In the place that fated faction of the whole Which will concede to this, The first and only purpose – The constitution and the course – And bleed a mind, This friction death, insanity and entropy. There designed to tally ravage, Errors interpose such fabric, Savage, groggy fevers as Confuse, reduce, seduce The will. Against that planned. There is no point where I and you Might differ greatly or oppose. Suppose me better off by whim And yet I too have felt the scurge. Ive been burned, not unlike, say. The emphasis was paraphrased And not without such double text To mask toxin content purge. The gape where ready current flows Ive hemmed upon to close the wound. But such remains where one was burned And mingles reflex in its surge. I cannot separate this pain from mere impulse afterwards And where it touches memory, corrupts the nature At its urge and dims the former ways of one. But magnifies the absent mind of one, unscarred And ignorant, and this with tremors as emerge Upon such undecided glance Where empathy has not a chance. But burned? I see the imprint there and yet how Easily appeals this Vanity of yours to unscarred minds. To lengths that instincts seem to merge, and still no grimace, for all that. There is none evidence thats blent. Its evident that I, while burned, have harbored something not unlearned -- – a reflection on my inability to reason her treatment, and this then not too strikingly different or of a difference to that my utter loss of her affections. I never had much success in the irresistible conclusion of the unobtainable, rather, the irresistible outcome of defeat. One wave of obstinacy almost owned me, but it was later than the initial reservation I felt that held me for a moment, petrified. The strongest grasp of cataclysmic and emphatic possession extracted the measure of energy to will or withhold my favor or, in like form, disfavor. I could taste resentment, a flavor only too deliberate and debilitating to the core, a sense that was govern-less to the innate expectation. It should have been unlucky or disastrous, a portion too deafening to allow orientation, and so it was. I dearly loathed the draw that it enforced to its self and its design, but as helplessly grim was my state, it forbid any disinterest, any indifference and any compulsive repulsion. It first and foremost possessed me and, in a way, was vaguely optimistic in its outlook, the vision of independence it forced upon me. It seemed to nourish me, and indeed it did, forcefully, involuntary as my reinforcement be to it. It still revered me and pried upon my facilities, preying in a way, twisting and turning all my notions and aspects to it. It could have been more vicious in its regard that it leveled upon me, as this tendency ever be innate -- to extend a sense of purpose that overwhelms any other definitions of the rhythm, the material, of life? This a studious objection, not a wish. In reflection, many a system had intended to compromise me throughout my experience, this not in league, whatever its intention, with this destructive natures. These I could object to, and be exacting in my opposition. To sustain a variety, a various-stemmed vein must seep throughout the system, to replenish the many layers of life and natural endowment. I could never propose to edit the natural, to stymie the unfurling vine of consciousness, perhaps the very nerve of sentience itself? None seem to be capable, all the same, of advancing this enlightened understanding, or at the very least, for the sake of their souls, capable of such advance themselves as secure it, seeking something more elusive, empathy perhaps, to shun the ore as would best secure them, best services all. By applying an even premise amongst themselves, that, for the most part, could increase good opportunity to unlimited, to any and all, men and the other parties implied therewith are probably less likely to appreciate this band of legitimate securities and tokens as the self and the innate would request, the conscious elements more dismissive and negligent to the whole than the less obvious registers. Similarly, as it to compare themselves with the more elusive attributes of human comprehension and judgement, men themselves seem more capable of adhering to and advancing this principle than the female population, in a general manner of speaking. In the spirit of converse logic, this the feminist identity enforces a new perspective, a comprehension of this principle, equality, thereby deciding an unity of minds will convert any unfavorable circumstances to a new balance of correct distribution as they see it, this more a remark upon human vanity and irregularity of logic applied than a statement of endorsement or criticism – the advanced recognition of truly enlightened mortal creatures so instantly and irrevocably redeeming the animalistic basis of likely any personality in scrutiny, in consideration, a veritable fantasy and in conclusion, futile expectation. We are constantly undermining this coveted intelligence as has singled out humanity, apparently, of equality and responsibility, claiming that there is no way to make it in a world where such apprehension of misfortune exists. Rather than close our eyes to the balances and systemic growth of the misfortunes of life, to decide oneself above any such a phenomenon, the analysis of the consistently male-fortified logic of chance and luck might resume a better balance , making fortune more readily available. This, become foul and base to the feminist, should be reconsidered as a reasonable understanding of reality. But this entity, misfortune, is met with poorly executed examples of human defense under the faze of accepted idiocy, this comprehension of equality without equal enlightenment of the terms it would assume or the only terms by which it could assume a material likelihood. Which makes the party defensive -- more and more, having none. Under blind direction of universal singularity, embracing a fantastic compulsion to simply reject any such recognition of the disastrous, in its every form, in deference to ideal and in repulsion of the familiar element, male preparation, this specimen, the feminist, sets herself against the evidences of reality and she braces for battle with these terms in mind for society to seize upon lest it lose her resource and best intentions. These few philosophical entreaties to spur on the reckonings of my intellect came upon me, wave by wave. I explored the females physical form before me, seeking these too in her mien. The very situation in which I found myself was one that should have made me more resentful, giving me an edge and a thicker skin to buffer the contempt like that of a feminist the lady indicated and that consciously and deliberately. Nothing of the sort, however, as I regarded her, did I now find at my disposal. Therefore needy, likewise scared, paranoid and lost, my only case, my only appeal was emotional instability both by her hand induced and for her favor, haplessly-- it was a boon to her and seemed to me the only balm I might possess, at least a balm to her that I need not withhold. It served me as a traitor better than I might have chanced among the most disreputable. And still I kept my silence, stubbornly. Worse, this sense of what could not be prevented chose itself a shape to me much like punishment, be I blameless, faultless by any measure or standard as presented itself me at any moment. Again a pang of fear or confusion surged upon my consciousness and, embracing it, the air of tension escalated. This irrevocable gloom weighed heavily on my shoulders, pressing in upon me as if smothering my sense of balance and stifling my equilibrium, here too enlisting the resolution of gravity in its cause. I near-most stumbled; feeling I teetered on the brink of acceptance -- this my own, of the situation -- and denial, I expended so much of my senses and nerves that a dizziness overwhelmed me and an excitement like that of anticipation. She, on the other hand, was statuesque, even in posture and command. Although the more mobile. On cue, checking, the inner doorway her focus, she spake upon swinging back. To me she remarked, “Hell be in here in a moment. Weve nearly got our stuffed moved. I want you to meet him as soon as hes free.” A lapse sustained the only restraint available me, a strange sort of catch in time and event. Sad in a bad- and shabby sense, the atmosphere breathed within that of my hurt and my loss of vital facilities, it seemed, and vitals, at least of an unseen and emotional nature as a metaphorical dusk swamped the room, again, like that of bracing gravity, for sure such is if left to itself and, full of itself, compounds its effect. This unbearable sense of futility and closure, bracing gravity like closure impressing upon the depths of human comfort, security – sanity -- nearly bordering on a hounding stranglehold, the tenseness as like that of horror, brimming with encroachment on every faculty as to brink and overflow over it -- the human capacity -- this foreboding glimpse of the unimaginable, that of the inevitable. Beneath this crust of fraudulent euphoria, as I could only register in my self-doubt and thus complete liberty of responsibility, I was helpless, helpless as a dying victim against death like against that of it as left me blank and drained and tired beyond the fragile hull viewable. This was blatantly disloyal, unfaithful to my senses and to stave the aftermath of hysteria that must follow in its wake, I sat down. There she still smiled and I swear must have been drawn nearer by some fathomless power of unknown physics. Coming forward in the dark, she coyly eased within my vicinity, kneading her flesh to stave such curious and nervous numb as she appeared to experience, she herself hardly fully sensitive to the implications and consequences. As she ventured closely to the ghostly intruder, a creature dead for all he knew, she projected a sense of security, despite other bodily communicative evidence to the contrary, at least to some degree, supposing, no doubt, her confidence of purpose superior mine. Believing so, she wagered she could override my own. This purpose was vague, beyond establishing me villain and creating an excuse for herself against my every reproach. Or thusly did she seem to set herself as – a wronged mortal against such injustice as she perceived in my person.
Posted on: Mon, 01 Sep 2014 19:01:27 +0000
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