The desk will not change. Forever I am, Forever I will be at this desk. This desk this desk, away from violence. Away from beckoning anger. Away from ease. Away from magic. Away from dichotomy. Away from divergence.
It may be around a nest of rats. It may be floating in sludge. It may have nothing but charcoal and paper. It may be surrounded by loudness. It may be under siege. It may be misunderstood.
But still the desk will not change.
The time will not bend to the desk, it is the other way around. What has been done has only been at the desk and can only be at the desk.
What has been an illusion for the longest time has only been allowed to be an illusion because of the desk. Without the desk, there would be nothing.
What has been a cave has only ever not been a cave because of the desk.
What has been known as reality has only been dubbed thee because of the desk.
Birthed by Thucydides and Aurelius, the emotion of loneliness, timeless loneliness.
Disrespected by the future, by the skin grafted from Adams underbelly.
Grafted onto a corpse of rotting, kicking, screaming diseased children.
The tree is knotty and many low hanging fruits droop only to be fed on by the lowliest of worms.
The roots push into the dirt, giving this circus life.
It may be around a nest of rats. It may be floating in sludge. It may have nothing but charcoal and paper. It may be surrounded by loudness. It may be under siege. It may be misunderstood.
But still the desk will not change.
The time will not bend to the desk, it is the other way around. What has been done has only been at the desk and can only be at the desk.
What has been an illusion for the longest time has only been allowed to be an illusion because of the desk. Without the desk, there would be nothing.
What has been a cave has only ever not been a cave because of the desk.
What has been known as reality has only been dubbed thee because of the desk.
Birthed by Thucydides and Aurelius, the emotion of loneliness, timeless loneliness.
Disrespected by the future, by the skin grafted from Adams underbelly.
Grafted onto a corpse of rotting, kicking, screaming diseased children.
The tree is knotty and many low hanging fruits droop only to be fed on by the lowliest of worms.
The roots push into the dirt, giving this circus life.
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