visitor; imperative.

in every corner of this soulless room lives a different version of my conscience. come nightfall,
we battle against ourselves in desperate hopes of settling on the one true trajectory of life.

this dreary war would often instigate a paroxysm of anguish and desolation within us. though
repetitive, we never stopped clinging onto the slim chance of bearing fruit from our labor.

through the throes of it all, came a visitor. someone or rather—something not short of
innumerable divinity enfolded in an earthly comfort.

its presence filled the space within the four walls with warmness, one that closely resembled the
median between a thick quilt for a cold night and one’s domicile for his eternal atonement of sins.

i, who i, i, the one writing this, watched the visitor make its way to me on the left. the other two
followed suit, the one in front of me twisted his lips into a slight frown as he tried to keep his
facade of virtue up. as usual, he is blissfully ignorant to the fact that it’s simply all in vain. he
does not know this.

“what is it that you desire?”

he who does not speak, remained silent yet his disquietude ricocheted off the walls almost
stentorian contradictory to his idiosyncrasies.