Here is my hand, open palm toward the heavens, full of nectar for you to feed.  Your health has diminished toward the border of death, but here I nourish you to life; a second chance that you had neglected from humanity.
Why does your consumption pierce my skin?  Red dots appear with delay.

Here is my time, a precious commodity among fellow humans, but I do not hesitate to exchange with your diminished existence; I’d rather see you flourish from the darkness that engulfed you for so long.
Why does your teeth consume my flesh?  My bones have shattered and fallen to the floor.

Here is my life, with knowledge to lead you toward epiphany, yet you continue to consume without hesitation, without feeling toward my graciousness; I have left my existence to you, yet you devour my being without question.
Why have I wasted my life to you?  My ignorance and hope has left me to die for a parasite, a being that will continue to live for destruction until all is consumed and die without realization of all that has been offered; all that knowledge wasted.

Your plague will lay waste to all.
Yet here I lie, fading breaths, in hope that a time of regret will be realized.

I’ll die forgotten.  No stone planted in remembrance.  Though those few nutrients left from my rotten corpse shall spread in the soil, spread in the seeds, spread in the stomachs of various consumption, to be ignited in warmth for a silent epiphany that words cannot understand, only a glance that stops the heartbeat momentarily.  Those futures shall search for meaning, but will be lost among the blind masses, and the circle continues.

 

Haunted Memories