hang on;

There always comes a time in your perfect little world where cracks start to show and leaks somehow become cascades, eventually causing a succession of erratically confused panic that could only be defined by an incredulously delusional sequence of thoughts and actions.

The world turns topsy turvy

No.

My world turns topsy turvy.

Contentment and sadness no longer in polarity, they seep into one another and become part of each other. Where does one start and where does one end. The questions implore my pounding heart, head, and sometimes hand. They say the heart wants what it wants. But what does the heart really want?

The truth can sometimes be glaringly bare.

For the heart wants many things. Too often things that seem unable to meet, leaving a trail of tangled knots and imperfect crossroads. So then what does the heart want? It does not choose its path. It only creates more; almost like a butterfly effect that takes pleasure in sending masses into unknowing chaos.