faces

Theres always little pockets of guilt or emptiness or want or whatever you decide to name it. Theres always something missing, something so fundamentally unmendable that it doesn't even feel like there is any point in dedicating time to the alleviation of the discomfort it brings. The shift that brought it about could be from a number of things, missed opportunity, lost connections, a failure of someone at some level or maybe its not failure if its destined. Who am I to touch the untouchable, call forth the intangible, know the unknowable, how deep in my hubris is my soul buried to feel the yearning for that which no man can be deserving.