...but in the long run, there's still time to change the road you're on.

When I believed I knew the soul was weak, when I believed I was prone to wishing, no longer do I believe, nor count faith amongst my vices- I can find no more use in perpetuating such folly. My design now is a grand scheme no greater than resignation, given to a fate, diminished to some destiny; though decidedly one out of my hands. No, my part lies elsewhere, alone in the interior, maybe in the depths of the un-quiet mind, maybe in the recesses of a black heart. A void anywhere else, but in my eyes and in my misgivings these are real promises.

Perhaps now as I whisper I am dreaming, I realize now we are dying, and I see the finality of such a state -- even as it’s quite certain, if nothing else, that I am crazy.

Even now it occurs to me -perhaps- I am wrong, though I guess that I am not; I’m never wrong when it comes to recognizing that familiar, unsettling, feeling which is the biased-arbiter, truth. Logic allows for only two ends, the truth -and it’s unsettling madness- or the quiet pallor of lies. Me? I’ve always seen pain for the truth, and madness for what is, and betwixt the two? As it relates to the rest of my sordid dealings with this irreverent world? Well, this is where I choose to lie. All is vanity, these thoughts are, take that for truth and you will be bound to, and held honest by it. Beyond this idea even truth cannot pass. And at this point the rest of all things become tenuous rumors, at best, and somehow life goes on, just the same, no, none of this is contagious, we’ve affected no great change today. But maybe, just maybe, the devil’s gone to Ohio, my angel recedes, and I am lost.