Moderation, Please

Why do I find myself lost in this situation, searching for ornamentations? It’s losing inside that I despise, falling short and embracing a worthless demise. Hold me together by the edge of my will. I understand that nothing is coming in spite of my everlastingly stubborn hope. Forging again some endless ties, fighting against leaking spies. Don’t attempt to abandon the post; I won't hold down the fort even in using everything I own. My time is wasted and more often, now, forgotten. I need to step onward lest I betray the words, the knowledge lent to me from those around. Where would I carry on if I could break a moment out of myself? Move away and examine the body inch-by-inch, day-by-day, flame-by-flame. The paper rain will always tear into my soul forever leaving me bloodless and wretched cold. I fall for foreign ties and lose my mind when I can see where I need to be. Mere words on a page birth tears in my heart sharing in a future that I am taking apart. I tangle myself with threads of certainty sewn into defiance. I look away, giving an ear to blackness, throwing out subtleties with an anti-delivery of intent. A mile, a yard, an inch away life will change. I yearn for this chance and I want the freshness to heal my bones, refuel my core and leave me helpless within the surrounding danger. Uninhibited and nonsubtle. Passionate and obsessive. Where will this lead? I haven’t a clue to tell. Why do I need? A mysterious something inside me dwells. Who will I plead? Losing my sight, locked in hell.