And now you are sitting there, feeling unlucky, unceasingly blemishing the universe with wishes you know you are not even worthy to be tossing to the sky, wishes you know will never come true yet you try, a little harder every time but you know no one is coming for you. No one is coming for you. You know this. Even the bones you throw have shunned you away countless times and the red and blue candles you set alight every night have done nothing but remind you that perhaps you crossed the line, that you have gone a little too far this time because you shamelessly deafened your ears when the angels wept for you that eventful night so you knew very well that the minute you hung your head from the roof, dangling to the mouths of filthy men who promised you provisions, lavishness you knew you could never afford was the minute you lost yourself, You knew would never ever return to yourself the same. You have climbed out of too many old wounds, peeling off dead skin way too often to ever be whole again; even serpents hide away when you walk their way. You have lost too much of yourself for anyone, for anything to relate. But in the crux of it all, in your depths, amidst your misfortunes, you know exactly what you have done to yourself; you know where you went astray, you remember that day very well, that day when you drew life’s disappointments and quick solutions on your face with the black eyeliner and shrinking red lipstick as if you were a painter’s canvas. You are the quickest to collect apologies from every hand that has ever wronged you yet you have never apologized to yourself, too proud you might sound faulty, too scared you might seek mercy from yourself and rightfully so. So after putting yourself in harm’s way, after you have slithered at the gods, remember the crimes we have committed to ourselves are the most fatal and can never be bought away with self-pity stories and crushed kneecaps. They will not save you. No one is coming for you. Go home to yourself. Apologize to yourself. After we have wronged ourselves we must be stupid enough to apologize to ourselves, to grovel for our own mercies like we would a lover threatening to leave us, to collect as much grace from ourselves as we expect of the world. After we have returned everything we have stolen from ourselves, reversed each and every insult we ever threw at the mirror and cleaned out the mess we have made of our bodies then perhaps we can start to heal, until then we are nothing but lingering departed souls who have everything else but life.
Posted on: Thu, 20 Nov 2014 10:02:31 +0000
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