Objectification.

Yet another revalation.

It is odd how this one still feels light and freer than it once did yet in not questioning it, this one has no answers for what happenned earlier. It is still confused as to what this all means and it tries not to ponder too much upon it. This one yet ponders. It ponders about what could have caused this great crevasse between the two so great that even a wave would seem hazardous.
It would like to believe that It was over everything that has happenned and that it was free from whatever dredges it felt were holding it back and despite no longer feeling any weight from the little past yet this one cannot help but feel the sourish tinge when it was again reminded of how cold the ice-box really was.
Noticing in how this knot in the yarn is far from unravelled and smoothened out, this one will retract its thesis upon which this one presumed that it was over everything and that it could thenceforth enjoy the gaeity of life's bounty. This one must ponder more upon it.
T'was said that true love be eternal yet they never spoke of what would happen to them if indeed things ran awry. Does the immortality of this silly noun called love carry on and become a walking cadavre oozing with perversions of its former self?

This one gazes upon its wall of shit and smiles at the curves which seek to eke out an intricate design of irony which although appealing, destroys itself.

Ah yes, this one ponders too much, it thinks.