The Long Vigil

https://3speak.tv/watch?v=corpsekaizen/6e0e8d38 The suppression of logic dissolves those awesome woes, submerged like stones and perhaps there blooms an awakening through the needled base, that threshold where the flesh remembers itself, remembers how to become again. Fool me no more. I recognize the edge now, the ledge, that familiar precipice where I've kept my long vigil. The drop has no power here. I have stood in this shape long enough to know the geometry of my own return. Everything dwells within: the meat chunks and the greened dreams, the extracted leaves, the craved beginnings all spiraling through a senseless continuum, a becoming that asks nothing of meaning. And still I am myself. Still the same withdrawals circle back. Still the substances speak their simple language, and I choose—or choose again reaching for something better than this broken symmetry of staying.