I know my corner well, where the darkness veils just enough to make it welcoming but not isolated. Yet you have tainted this dreamspace, my abode of late. You came in with your dirty feet and tarnished my minute trappings, ripping my small works of art into shreds, demanding I confess to my wrongdoing. I have done no wrong except in acknowledging you for who you were not. I have known much misery by you, have known sadnesses a thousand feet deep in the blackness of the ocean. My melancholy siphons from one vein to another, flowing through the circuitry of my being, molding what I have become. I wish these sentiments on no one, as none deserves such wretchedness, such tightening of happiness. You are a cruel and dirisive being. May you find chaos in your hubris. There is no love left to share with you, for you have misused me too many times to bear. My heart has run dry, and I wish nothing but turmoil in your shortfalls. Perhaps somewhere at the end of your time you may find the acute and immeasurable pangs of self awareness dawn on every reprehensible fiber of your existence and only then may you go in a silent but fleeting moment of quietus. May your trappings haunt you like a disinterested ghost. You have no home here. Be gone before I set the wolves on you once more.
These familiar faces surround me, they have returned from places far away, come back home for this festive stretch of time, to half celebrate the end of one year and the start of a new one, the closing of strange chapters, they tell me things I have no desire to heed, they remind me of the role I fulfill in their dark souls, they have made me feel more alone than ever, here at the end of the year.
I think of the water washing up at level with the bank in the cold evenings as I stare at the twinkling lights across the river. My stomach rumbles as I think of the fulfilling prospect of hot food. I am happiest when I follow my friends back toward the restaurant.
I hope to begin anew again soon.
There are these bright moments of abhorring darkness when someone does something so vile that you feel bits of yourself falling away, and the spirit of self-damaging pain takes over like a slithering poison.
These moments are so trivial and yet their effect is astounding. You play and replay scenarios in your head, wondering how much further you could go down the chasm. It’s subtle but overt, quiet but cacophonous.
When they takes stabs with their sharpened words, there is this millisecond of thought that flashes in my mind and soul, and disappears just as quickly.
In that millisecond, I think of the dying.
They will try to make you stay,
steal the peace away from you,
soak your actions in self doubt,
if you don’t live the way they like.
Wide as the ring of a bell,
gone all star white,
small as a wish in a well.
Iron & Wine | Sodom, South Georgia
Will you sing to me when I’m gone?
The moon gathers those wispy clouds around her tonight. She might be cold. She could be lonely. Probably in need of company. Her fleeting friends dance around her in slow motion, the delicate and fickle creatures.
My days have been warm and anxious, my nights cool and fulfilling. I’ve let things go, let them fly up and into the dark skies, spreading through all the pines. I’m here in my body at last, in agreement with my thoughts.
Wednesday marks the 18th year since you died. I’ll be at the manse on the hill to whisper simple words to your memory and bid you another peaceful year of happiness, wherever you are. I’ll walk through the grand entrance with a straight back, into the hall of candles and statues, up the hill to your place of rest and there I’ll shrink back into my 13-year-old self.
It’s fine. Tomorrow is a new day.
For a fraction of a millisecond, I see it.
There beyond the bluffs and the sea, the long dive below.
I see my mortality eternal, etched in layered hues of blue and gray.
I see how the best counterpart of my spirit is also its worst, its most nightmarish twin soldier.
How love can be too much to cling to and account for, how it is nearly unbearable to fathom when I stop long enough to think on it.
How in that seemingly negligible fraction of a second, it seems entirely possible and tangible, this terrifying reality of existence.
How I might know this reality through lapsed dreams in the dark, where my consciousness is veiled under cushioned placeholders.
The night grows dreary, cold, distant.
I want to leap headlong into that dark bluff, and I want to frame you for it.