They flicker and capture each moment tattered and torn. Like antique cameras they record every moment through distorted lenses. Foggy glass and sharp scratches become an authentic certainty, transforming the truth.
This is my false reality, I envision through jaded eyes.
Beginning so pure, once so innocent; crushed by each experience. I can still sense the Good, its still somewhere out there. Although I can not see it anymore.
So I continue to search, eyes closed to my surroundings trying not to be swallowed up into what we only believe to be real.
Slowly removing the picture of what once was, what ought to be and piecing it back together the haze begins to fade. Piece after piece through eyes of clarity.
Judgments will not cloud this truth. My experiences will no longer control my world. Instead I see everything as it is as I wait for the indescribable to find me.