Waiting patiently to escape my snow globe reality, clinging to the ecstasy of imagination.
I don’t know what
to do
because
I love you
&
I do not
love
I am
terrified
of falling
into a darkness
from which I
cannot
ascend
&
I am
scared to death
of how
well you know
that.
perhaps that is
why you took
me rock climbing
amongst those
first dates
to learn
exactly how
pathetic
my
upper
arm
strength is
&
how easily I
let myself
fall
with you.
He ran his tongue
Within her lips
Lacing then with
His poison.
Drawing her in
Slowly
Until she was his
Completely
She ached for the
Hit
He provided.
The ecstasy
Of surrender
She quivered as he drew away
Cold
Clean
Night air
It’s purity
Ravaging
Her lungs in his absence.
He smiled at the
Trembling.
“Come…”
And she did.
If there were a time
It should be now;
To shed bindings
of the past
The hate
For self
For body
For weaknesses.
If there were a time
It should be now;
To cast to the abyss
All darkness of thought
All hatred of man
Of woman
Of child.
If there were a time
It should be now;
To cherish
A stranger’s touch
Burnt passion
Melting ice.
If there were a time
It should be now;
For silence
For sorrow
For self.
Beyond this time
There is nothing
But nothing
Is everything
To some.
Today I read Victoria Coren Mitchell’s article for The Guardian, “Stop the world, I need a break”.
It awoke in me a desire to create a similar list; a compilation of mismatched loves I use to create momentary distraction from the insanity of the world. As Mitchell wrote, “These are some things I’m going to try to clear my head and focus on – to the exclusion of all else.”
It is truly fascinating to note, however heartbreaking, that those things we loose sight of in pursuit of happiness are those perhaps best equiped to make us so.
For me personally, it took two stupid little boys, a rather considerable blow to the head, & about 7 months to judge the worthiness of certain aspects of my life; & to view these aspects with the importance that was intrinsically their own.
I, as many others have done before, and so too will into the unforeseen future, gave my all to a loveless cause.
A job.
A job that drained the very life blood from my once inspired, devoted, creative, & simply alive veins.
I gave my all & a little more besides, to an organisation that not only could not care less about me as a human being, but proactively sought to destroy my physical and mental wellbeing.
It was as though I was in the eye of a tornado hell bent on my destruction; unable to see beyond to a possible end of the nightmare within.
This tornado consisted of one being content with the path chosen; one of bilious actions, vile deeds, & heartlessness. If tornados in nature spun torrents of knives into the “good’s” backs, this would be cleaner metaphor.
But Nature’s tornados would not stoop to the level of mere mortals, especially those of such singular purpose & egocentric design, unbound by moralistic intentions.
From within the eye, the destruction is seen not felt. In fact, within the eye, the damage & pain in the past is sidelined for the stagnant safety of the present. Those lost to earlier ruinations are seen from a distance as a future far removed from one’s own.
But then the eye passes.
The destruction returns & your life is hurled as a whirling dervish to the winds of blind, uncaring chance.
Except it is not up to chance.
Chance would play fair within its own restraints.
Chance would be thoughtless with its targets; choosing none, but maiming all.
Chance would not relish the pain & the hurt it held within its power to wield.
Chance simply would not care enough to destroy only one.
Chance would destroy all.
So this tornado, beyond the constraints of chance & bound only by the spiteful design of a soul lost to some ghoulish Master, destroyed me.
Splinters of my soul fragmented by the force lay scattered through every aspect of my life.
This was my punishment for a sin I did not commit; judged by a vindictive insecure child who could not be so relished in the obliteration of those that could.
So a walked away from the tornado, broken as I was, towards a grey dawn.
Uncertainty the only assurance I had to cling to in the aftermath.
And I began to rebuild myself.
Slowly.
Those aspects of my life that I had once sidelined for a career that had attempted to consume me, now built me whole.
My friends.
My mental health.
My physical health.
My family.
My happiness.
They may not be as once they were, but they are mine & I cherish each with new sight.
I am not the person who I was before the storm.
I am stronger.
When next the siren sounds I shall heed the call and head to the bunkers.
For there is not dignity in fighting when the battle cannot be won but at the loss of all that one holds dear.
There is no dignity in fighting when the opponent you face will shoot arrows at your spine whilst smiling all the while.
There is no dignity in fighting when the fight is not worth the winning.
Quitting does not mean one has lost; it simply means one has chosen to value something else to a greater extent.
I choose to value self.
I may be still searching for exactly what that means, but at least I am free.
Ecstasy of Heartache 