I Am Here, My Ethos.

Chapter 24: Staring into Your Eyes

When we meet at the corner of light, I will remember not to seek myself to manner. I am a man who is accustomed. I will stay, too noble to a stranger's appearance. I am familiar with his figure. Tall, dark, a heavy glare. He is taunting. Still light, a silhouette, I am captivated. I may not know how to end a conversation, but to ignore my infatuation.

"You are beautiful,"

I have a rather guilty demeanour to accusations of self. He is here before me. My eternal gaze has lost its flatter. I am staring at a rigid statue. A sophistication of my imagination.

I forgot the possibility of ache or losing myself, "I left my keys at the door." A purposeful deduction to swear I'm allegiant. I claimed love to be the subject, sempiternally. Ajar is my insinuation — life is tantalising.

I don't care for rude entry or interruptions. I believe in faith. A made up condition to my compassion for indirect euphemisms. Compulsive nor sympathetic, I forgave my energy for audacious presumptions. I am guilty, astute. I have reasons to fear my existence.

"My door is open," I confess. Belief, a kind restoration of wasted potential I can't forgive. I tend to think I know best. Overdoing my sense of identity to assert forgiveness. Mon coeur, steals moments to redirect love, in bloodstream. I know better than letting go of my ego and character.

I'm beneath the intellect of expressing myself, in the battle of lions, I am a brave fighter. I am not scared of his latent commitment. He is still in his retro. I am here, to endeavour this leverage. My ethos, let the command of rivals be a sentiment for courage. A tactical misery to show face. I am but a losing force in the face of collateral. A tasteless battle of stature, my taste is for reason, why I stay alive in strive to be the only one standing between a sergeant and a brethren soldier.

Losing myself is not new indignation. I am a remorseful Duke of conjunction. I find peace in mutiny.

As the validation of space writes time, predictability is complete in aspect. I have nothing left but the property to adjust to futile temper. A possession, more so. Albeit possessive. It is sacred. A continuum of belonging to a parallel world of increments. I grow a wondering man, submissive to trait.

The meaning of life, I didn't know it built itself. A great architect.

The subtext of life states it is lost, bound to ever last love and emotion, an exaggerate sense of reflection. To underestimate the devotion and its comprehension. I view mine with temporary obsession and madness to lose due effort.

Originality, an individualistic purpose, the catastrophe of self, always the destruction of self. To be real. It appears, a crisis of distinction. A complete irony; of whether or not I am here. The seduction is knowing how to steer away , it is late in originality. "I am here."

I premeditated my consciousness.

Finding the in between of realisation and concur is the occasion of love.

The complete understanding of self, a maze of open and closed doors, I see I stray a wounded soul. I love you.

Ajar because life is a competitor, a monster that grew from feast. A growing attempt of grasping reality, life is a mammoth. I considered the conception of a tyrant. He is a savage. To him, I defend my passion and fervour, it is not reason but a justification of act. He is beautiful.

Temptation, I have formed a conceived meaning of existence. It is continuance– stolen, more than borrowed, from a bookshelf in the library of time. A love affair. The continual regression to an older tradition. Me. To leave books to dust on shelves. A former state of I know what life is. I know who you want me to be.

Bare covers and titles that concrete sentiment from abstract, the longing of a symbolic creation to thought, I find great romantic lengths in timeless objects.

The ardour of continuing in the same font, once the first letter is written I have found the meaning of you. A book. Read for the first time.

Beyond avarice is a human eye rewatching your eyes. Infinity knows how to portray a bloody blue death. It is suffice that I know less. Why threaten the cosmos with letters.

I have found myself away from all the controversy of knowing oneself in the light of tunnel.