When The Party's Over

As the piercing, white light of interrogation beams down upon me, I lift my forearm, half expecting that iconic prism to replace my stark reality, but alas there is only a slight reprieve in this fleeting theatricality.

Isolated, yet still interconnected, drained from an unrealized celebration of unified egoism. Granted, not taken, are those struggles we do not endure, for without a common objective other than that which divides us, we are a community no more.

The gawks will soon shift the entitlement of provocation to nuisance as time ticks on and pride becomes elusive. How did we get here? What didn’t we do? Is there a rhyme or reason, or even just a voice to cling to?

Human, my unyielding affliction, lost in the utter withdrawal of carnal confliction.

The cadence, my vitality, music replaced by dirges of lingering mentality.

Grief, through distorted view, sprinting towards the acceptance of we, derived from the inclusion of me, and you.

I take heed of my heart and step back into the world, come into myself and soon take solace. Fear is merely a construction meant to confuse and constrain, for my existence is my truth, a personal parade of prowess.