The beginning comes with knowing the end. The things to come are only necessary in order to pass the wasting time. It is calm. Controlled. Choreographed.
It begins as innocent curiosity, then quickly develops into addiction due to assumption. Not long after, it begins to fade at a steady pace. Precious belongings turn into prey. This new perception strikes anxiety, which results in forcing ignorance to keep calm. The bliss brought with ignorance is not sincere. It has been tampered with.
This concealed knowledge scratches with its fingernails at the thin film of phony oblivion.
The end is hovering over the film. Though before it was a single wandering dove, it is now a flock of flightless crows. Anticipating the inevitable. Impatience intervenes as the crows inch closer, so hungry for transgression.
The end is brutal as the nails become claws, ripping mercilessly at the fragile film. As the crows depart, the malevolence of understanding escapes through the torn film and attacks its prey relentlessly. The state of understanding lingers, but moves aside. The hands come now, only to steal the bit of life left in the dying prey. They retrieve their desire easily and hold it possessively in tight fists.
Now that the end has arrived, it will never withdraw. The hands will not set the heart free. Desperation pulses through them due to the pitiful state they're lost in. This captivity is acceptable only because it is disguised. There the heart will remain. My hands will never give.