“I feel like I’m inside you but I’m not inside you.” His soul was silver and he had no eyes. It all belonged to me. Every starry word, every blind kiss. This is a true story by the way, my version of how the earth met the sky. The earth held water and the sky held fire. You could call this love, I certainly did. A quantum break from what the world expected. Normal allegiance and staying inside the lines…it’s not what I expected or wanted. Approval or normal at all. I would be anything vivid, a contrast that was never even seen except in the words of books never written out loud. Secret initiations revealed only to the truly alone. Alone, out loud. I do call it love, even now that day has come again and everything is still and quiet, boring and monotonous. Just one long goodbye after the fact. The fact that love, like God is a concept with no basis. Memories of how we want them to be, really, we have no facts only romance and anger. On a good day. On a bad day we have a blank face and a limp body. It’s not much to go on, any of it.
You’ve received my words, the only thing that makes it real is when I verbalize it. Pain and doubt. I will never know her, only be her who is unknowable. She starts fires and puts them out and starts them again. She destroys hope of fruition. When I love her I am lost, completely lost. In myself I find nothing but possibly you. Looking for me, at me. This struggle because I may not know her. This pain of separate bodies, this doubt that she is mine. A faraway star. It makes no sense to keep watching her shine. Earth, made of earth, her constellation under water. Sky, holding dawn just under the pain. The pain of letting go. Of the dark, she is dark. She hides roots beneath her. I cannot trust a star this deviant.
If I wanted a backyard I would have one. I want a river. A loud dangerous river. I want nothing and no one behind me. It’s important to be together, not alone. What do you want, the end of lies? I am so uninspired. It’s stagnant. All of the pandering, groveling. I’m jaded and there’s no way out. Religion will not set in, I’m not that desperate or stupid. But rebellion without a direct cause is the biggest waste of time. Bigger than going to church even. I wear the cross, only because of my human guise. Nailed to passion, fear, possession, and selfish hope. However we paint or fantasize her face, she’s still ultimately unfriendly and rotten. An animated corpse. Sure, we could say filled with “God” but that would just be wishful thinking. I feel good about all of this, my path of me. My personal wreckless forms of self inflicted initiation, devotion to a cause. A cause that reminds me- it doesn’t have to be this way. I don’t have to be a blow up anything- for anyone- just because of narcissism and self perpetuated delusion. On both ends. Remember it’s all just one plus one. I didn’t do anything. I am sharp. You are dull. That’s not yoga, that’s a mess. Fuck the murky stupor and wavering smile. It’s a trap. Your head that leads to hell and porn sites, dreams of pizza and India too.
Half ass poetry and songs unsung. Weakness. Weak and limp, dead and dumb. Self infatuation. I’m not even an issue. I left this world long ago…
while my old sound slowly fades to gone. And you stare at me hoping to extract something more crucial than just this curse. Maybe light or love or a knot undone. Self obsession is not devotion. The curse is my secret. You want inside don’t you think so? You don’t.
Remember Dante’s Inferno?
“All ye who enter abandon hope.”
“The path to paradise begins in hell.”
“The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and pain.”
“The devil is not as black as (s)he is painted.”
“Love insists the loved, love back.”
“YOU DID THIRST FOR BLOOD AND WITH BLOOD I FILLED YOU.”
It’s me. They were all me. It always was. All four sides. DEATH. BLOOD. WOMEN. A thing called HOPE. Until I became a DARKNESS deeper than pain and loss, blacker than even her eyes… AND I burned with the fury of immortal, ETERNAL LIGHT. Me.
ALL OF IT. Me. Beyond gone, processing and phases of the moon, curses from a fantasy God. Me.
Completely removed from the system of manmade men and unicorn saviors. Me. No more gods, goddesses, demons and saints. No angels or stars either.
Me. All me. Me…
just a wish blown at a flame.
Me. Sharada Devi