There's a poem buy William Butler Yeats, called The Second Coming. Lately I hear the words over and over in my mind. "Things fall apart. The center cannot hold".
I think probably because that's how I feel at the moment. I'm coming apart. I'm finding it hard to hold it together.
"The ceremony of innocence is drowned". I know I'm misinterpreting the poem. But phrases from it speak clearly to my current situation. I feel like my innocence has drowned. I've crossed over to the sick and sadistic dark side.
"The best lack all conviction while the worst are full of passionate intensity". Whose left to help me save my soul? Why? It's far more pleasurable to savour my skin.
I'm sure none of the above makes any sense in any context.
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