HolliBel

On Sustainable Futility My lofted dreams and passions do nothing to uplift my leaden carcass or nourish this starving aspect. Guarded in glass and meager glow amidst a labyrinthed miasma, They serve distraction to my mind; placation to my soul- Enough that these tumultuous and thieving tempests (almost ever-churning) cannot smother my restricted flame- The glint of buoyant hope remaining, to silence me into restful repose; The evolutionary insult of stagnant mind and disconnected soul Driven out by fabricated purpose and a plastic sense of complacency The fuel with which I may sustain this spark and save such sacrifice Hides within the fog