disjunction

the absurdity that is me is oft in time the subject of travesty. who is to say that it does not deserve it so? and perchance that it is not so, should i call upon the justice of the world eternal to cast down lightning from his high throne in the sky to strike down these riffraff? would poseidon here me in his realm in the depths and join me in my squalor?

nay, vengeance is not mine to dispense nor wield, it is the wretched scoundrel who take justice upon themselves and impart their own brand of the law. my errand is not to change things but to accept them as they come, and live with it. and so i remain. plausibly it is my trespass that i should be so lax, but i cannot bear to be the agent of pain to anyone, not even mine insolent intimidators.

perhaps it is my character that deserves such a reception that leads to such lack of propinquity, but is it not the constitution of the man that is scoured in the venture for immediacy? i know not, for so rare a time have i ever chanced upon such a proximity, and always ever so fleeting. may be i ask for too much, may be i don't know what i search, may be i don't know me. maybe!

but until i know what is it i search, i must live as i have lived all the days of my life, onliest. and to the hosts of my prehension, sift me out and abide, for you are my utopia.

wrath befall the precedent of my divorce!