Not aesthetically pleasing literature, just thoughts of a blanking mind. I'm thinking far too close to reality.
October 24, 2011
And I crawled back to her,
saying please, take me back,
and she said, you pathetic fool,
you can't choose both.
Why, I thought you wanted to be that,
shallow and pathetic creature,
addicted, a thrill-seeker,
do you want to live for the moment?
Or for all eternity?
I bowed my head low,
don't speak a useless word,
for you don't know how to use them anymore.
I thought of the pain and release,
the work that took me to a better place,
can I keep chasing that feeling?
Can I keep chasing after something,
like a junkie after drugs?
It's all too scarily close to the truth.
But can I sit here,
as always, as I was born,
like a silenced monk,
deprived and lowered and
scrubbed clean to the bone.
Just to bow my head and
speak my apologies.
Is there another way?
And all the while I sat,
too afraid to stare fate in the eyes.
And so she kicked me back,
without a second to think,
a second for me to take a breath.
And she sent me down the rabbit hole.
I woke up to a pale blue sky,
having written my dreams the night before,
but now I saw, that the face of Fate,
was truly that of Death's.