in parentheses

You were too close, that I know there is one such a person, that breath was exasperated in pursuit of fury of the childe, despite the stone despite the tower despite Colossus, fore to come to you that was my sole founding and how that harmed me, who grow only in raging as the days squandor into an oblivion, night in the forest seeing vapours swirl into a form and a face alien to my heart spoke me and I ran, but that is me :: but that is me, was the saying of the dark, who with tarred tongue gave me the first flame on fury’s way, but to be blind, but to be blind, by the closeness of a vision now dividing and blurring and time frays in the silence between words as I rush against something errant about my head who speaks me desolation, to go home to go home to go to a home so far from here, that you are not some vapour or blur but something that speaks of me beyond me, beyond Colossus beyond the tower beyond the stone, there at the horizon, when shall I make my crossing