Against Oblivion
Indignation overload— it’s brazenly obscene. I’ve condemned myself to a black hole where only the abominable make their beds. All because I distorted authenticity. I made it look like I was legitimate, but I was the wolf in sheep’s clothing, the thief in the night, the mother of lies. How, then, do I come back from this? What penance do I need to make? Is there such atonement? Can I make this dissolve into oblivion? Maybe there’s a way out without reparation. Perhaps I can pull the curtains over his eyes once more. No. That’s how I got into this abhorrent calamity. Candor, integrity. That’s how I claim reformation. I must reconstruct the collapse. I must live with indemnification.















