The Vanishing Act II

It is not an abrasion of  the chaffed skin over the fresh wounds but the sudden merging of cicatrices with the flesh of my body. The healing gave way to such a rejuvenation that the scales of the past have been falling off. The tincture of time slowly wore of and the tourniquet was shed because a single stitch that was holding its ugly scar sunk in without a trace.

Even the bruises  that they left, the patchy discoloured skin has now blend in and feels like river bed silt bathed in the dawn. The light set in, the dark diminished from the rims of the incarnation that was once before.The soul rid of the self inflicted atonement and the guilt minuscule to null.
I know love again and am capable of it. I know the vitality of emotion and the flow of it through my veins and the will to spill them.

Another self is to die in this light and one wonders what all will die with it. It is the closure to a life disdained by its own wants and condemned by its needs.
Now he can disappear, the apparition he was , he flees . Today I set him free and with him my dark and my fears, my afflictions and infliction, my self righteous indignation and I let go for the first time in my life.

But well, for him it is just another vanishing act.His second one perhaps.

Battles ,Annexations and the Wars.

I don't like to boast, display, or serve dutch courage.If a battle awaits I 'll keep my arsenal close.

 Brick by brick we fall a wall, drop by drop we dry a well, pillar by pillar empires fell. The rats brought down Rome  before the cats were unleashed. I have been warned, what now, what difference it makes? The confrontations have kept me awake through endless nights. I have slain my self, I have killed my self and been reborn. What effect you cause with the drums and horns?

We could blow the trumpets hollow of the air that is in our throats but what is the point? Better save up on that breath. You need it to fight, to battle, to win.

The enemies outside and the war is within. We part to annex the next territory. Before we control our wits , our form and our whims.
How ignoble could the enemy be.Sinister in it's suicidal nature. Yet survival is the one stark key that keeps him from winning and you from failure. Who will rest your fidget, your paranoid ways?

We thrive on most poisoned despair but hope is what sees me through. I eliminate chinks of doubt and lies that may cloud my mind as I put myself through the test of endurance, the decree of pain. It is the light of life that I search for and not its friend of fate.

Plot whatever there may be on how you would or you might act. For I know not less or more than one in present , the fallacy of a forming fact.
You defeat the purpose of your life in plotting another existence and end . I live here rejoicing little treasures and building on my long stood strengths.

I do not need a battle to annex what I know I do control. My life I chose to live as a free man. Not a prisoner fearing the end of parole.