(on with the convolute)

My brain is a cry from the back of the crowd. a desperate noise. a lost cause if it weren't for the swell of reckless urgency tearing out my lungs. burning my throat. my tongue. my words as if there were nothing left to prove. as if this were my swan song.

But it won't be.

I feel too goddamn strong.

Whether i am or not is a different question entirely. whether i can achieve a fucking glorious thing before i end my living tenure is a mystery i don't aim to ever fully resolve. i just think that i may. i believe it, more importantly.

Because i do have the passion i imagine. i have dreams i have to realize. i have a love inside me so powerful, it would crack the gates of hell and raise a vision of hope so beautiful, so pure it could crush us both in a kiss.

If only...

If only i knew more. if only it was clearer what the world (what she) needed of me.

I know it'll come to me. i know with enough time (tick tick ticking now faster and more painfully than ever) we'll know what the fuck it is we're doing and maybe then my hour will rise.