Aqueous

Innocence. What is it? Is anyone really innocent? Even children carry the sin of parasitism, at least in my belief; they feed off of the mother for nine months and throw her entire body into disarray.

'Hark, what light through yonder window breaks!'

My mind isn't in any state of order at the moment. I'm not entirely sure what it is that causes this to happen, but it does this every so often; it's almost as if I came complete with a faulty self-destruct mechanism.
I've cut myself off from... society? Have I been in touch with society? I don't believe I was, but I've cut myself off from whatever portion of society that I may have been in contact with.

There are the days that I just want to curl into a ball, roll myself into a hole and die. Die, rot, decay and fester, and at the very least know that there's a chance that some beautiful thing might bloom from my remains.
Then there are the days when I want to cuddle up next to some faceless Somebody on a cold marble floor in front of a roaring fire. I feel as if I miss it, but who have I ever cuddled up next to?
Then there are the other days, the ones that I pine for. The days when my hands demand to write, to work ceaselessly on my novel-in-progress and to amend portions of the story that I never quite knew were broken.
Then come the days of lethargy, where all that I want to do is sleep. Sleep and sleep and sleep until the world darkens and humanity dies, until my mind is my own.

I'm afraid. I'm petrified of the fact that I might just be as useless as I think that I am.

What am I living for? What are we waiting for? The time is now.
Time for what? The hands on the clock face turn.
Droves of doves and groves of grubs.
Someone needs to say something about the pandas!
For the children!