*6 days ago I had a heart attack. I’m still not even sure how to process that. These are the only thoughts I can seem to muster at the moment*
It’s all too easy to go after my easiest targets; they’re all open wounds for the world to see, to touch, to hear; they scream with delight to voyeurs of all types. They pick and scratch in places I can no longer reach, bleeding me apart from the inside. I rot on the out. Weaknesses, in my eyes, never relevant to begin with, and true short comings prick deadly as any rose’s thorn, far too late for me to react. Scars are my master & I am their slave. Stuck in what feels never-ending, and yet I know that’s not true; not anymore. Never again.
Guided and grown, in the hope for unknown, the arena was always toxic, septic, and made for trouble. Bubbled and built and getting a grip, productions that aren’t end-results took shape, and continued the mutant growth that was anything but natural.
Some things that planted, some things that grew, only served to assist tomorrow’s doom. Back in today, things seem so far away…the periods that exclimated simply burned away without a trace. That as until, without warning, something returned. Like a phoenix being born, ashes rebore as if the page was never even fucking turned.
Back in today, it’s hard to get a grip on how potent it all is. Even after letting go, it all feels perfectly contained. The pain, the burn, the scars, the betrayal, the hate, the rage, the rut, the butt, the start, the end; where do we even?
Knowledge states, the weight, you’ll hate. Drop that plate, get a move on, debate. Shock & grow, do what you know. Enjoy the new rhythm & drive the flow. But when that weight is your only worldly possession, the only thing you own, the only thing you ever wanted, how do relinquish it’s authority so lackadaisical? How do you fly above? How do you live without? Because at this point, isn’t this part of your soul? Your very essence? Your very self? What does it say about the worth of your being, when you have to knife out the sole foundation that makes up your existence from the get-go, akin to a poisonous jab in a barren desert?
Back in today, the pause button used to work. Used to help. Used to make sense. Things got so complicated that the whole fucking equation had to be broken into pieces so fucking small that not even the detective of lore could find them. Back in today, you used to be able to press skip, live and let die. Just ignore. And the weight got bigger, more relevant, and accidentally more potent. The weight propped as important, dropped as insane. The weight was never around; at some point, at some when. It was never lost, never deliberately put away, but it always kinda felt like it was hiding under the bed with all the other monsters.
Back in today, we thought, and we thought, and we though, and we wouldn’t stop obsessing. Things didn’t seem right, didn’t feel right; and we looked at everything, looked to everything. But would not look at what we wanted not to be found. And then the world sped up past keep or comprehension, the room set itself to dizzy, and everything changed for good.
Back in today we thought we were working towards decreasing the weight, and changing everything for the better. Now we see how wrong that approach was, and now we run from Death as fast, and as far as our little wings will take us.
Heaven help us.