The ceaseless onslaught of maniacal fragments. The lathering of concentrated convictions. The delicate bias between the two. Somehow I lost my way. The tenants in the other apartments. My father’s hateful predictions. The love that proved untrue. I lived another day? The cold floor upon which I lie dead still. The twist top poison I deeply involve. The layers of stability peel I need a resolve I’m so numb; I’m not positive anymore as to what is real. There are feelings I fought for years to try and dissolve. Emotions are flowing, though I cannot feel. They mutate, and evolve