Signposts

What is the remedy?  How long can it possibly take to heal the broken segments?  In deluded bliss we drift along with the screen of protection, flaunting the lies for all to see.  Beneath the rays of blinding synthetic sunshine there lies the desolate and bleak honesty that simply cannot be revealed to public eyes.  Not for lack of trying nor shame is the hidden truly that; but for complex reasons of obligatory self doubt and anxiety of outcome. 

When guts reign abundant and no longer may the agony be stifled, the product of outpouring can be one of explosive tendencies.  While internal voices speak of acceptance, receiving canvases reflect blank echoes, reiterating and cementing the knife wounds.  Permission for flaws is seldom given and the one who delivers is the one whose fingers are burnt.

Alternatives to remedies are few and almost certainly involve suffering.  When truly broken, is it naive to cling to the flaccid hope of being fixed?  Might one give thought to staying beyond repair and leaving shards embedded for all to see?  The clock is ticking faster and with each second passes a new thought, a new understanding.... that sometimes things simply cannot mend.